Always Reforming

My Internal Life: A Short Play--Act II

2009-02-09T08:59:00.004-07:00

Setting: February 9, 2009. A large board room, somewhere in Scott's subconscious. Lots of dark wood...probably mahogany.

Our characters, along with a handful of identical, but differently clothed, other men sit around a large conference table. The one wearing a robe stands slowly, clears his throat, and begins.

PastorScott: Ahem, excuse me. Everybody...eyes up here. Don't make me start working on Sunday's sermon. This is the first time I've led one of these meetings, so let's see...

LethargicScott: Oh, come on...I should be leading this thing. I've been at every last one of these. Even the '95 transition. Heck, I co-chaired that meeting.

PostmodernScott: Yeah...they asked me, but I didn't feel like it.

LethargicScott: Hey, where is CollegeScott, anyway?

PostmodernScott: He spends all of his time on Facebook now. He's...

PastorScott: Excuse me, fellas...got a little meeting here. Now, because it is Monday morning, I'm in charge. HusbandScott will be along shortly to co-chair...but that doesn't mean we can't start. Now...it's been a little over two years since we met.

LethargicScott: Yeah...when you came on board. Hostile takeover if you ask me. Between you and "The Tool Man" over here...

HomeOwnerScott: ...uh...

LethargicScott: ...you two are really cramping my style. When HusbandScott came along back in '02, I could roll with that. Had to pick up my socks and vacuum and stuff, but it wasn't too bad. But this new stuff? You guys are absolutely killing me.

PastorScott: Which leads me to our reason for meeting. There's a new guy coming...and he's not messing around. And so...hate to say it...one of us has to die.

Excited, nervous banter....eyes shifting around the room.

PostmodernScott: Now, wait. We thought this was going to happen back in '02, but the only guy who got...ahem..."laid off" was SingleScott.

LethargicScott sniffles and reaches for a handkerchief...sorry, his sleeve.

PastorScott: This is even bigger than '02...bigger than '03...even bigger than '06.

Stunned silence as the assembly makes mental lists.

LethargicScott: We're all thinking it. We all know the answer, here. It's him.

LethargicScott points to a huddled mass in the corner.

HomeOwnerScott: BloggerScott? He died months ago...around stewardship season. I checked the pulse. Long gone.

LethargicScott: No, not him. Next to him.

Points to another eviscerated figure nearby who is wheezing and obviously struggling to find the will to live.

HomeOwnerScott: I like that idea...he's dying anyway.

PastorScott: I don't know...a couple of my books say...

LethargicScott: Oh, come on. Think about it. Do the suit slacks still fit?

Pastor Scott: In the morning...if I suck in.

LethargicScott: Check. Any reunions coming up?

PastorScott: Not that I know of...

Lethargic Scott: Check. Still convincing yourself that the scale is broken?

SkepticScott: Check.

LethargicScott: Well, there we go...the chump dies.

All eyes turn to StayInShapeScott, cowering in the corner. He points at LethargicScott, opens his mouth, gathers his strength and musters four words.

StayInShapeScott: ...you stole my IPod...

LethargicScott: That's it. He dies.

PostmodernScott: Works for me.

PastorScott: All right, let's move to a vote.

Door swings open dramatically.

HusbandScott: Hold it, hold it. Not so fast. As the chair of the transition team, I thought we should hear from the incoming administration. Friends, here he is...

A man carrying a diaper bag, a pack-n-play, and a folder titled "Saving for college" strides confidently into the room.

LethargicScott: I knew this day would come.

FatherScott: Hello all. First order of business? Points to the corner. He lives. HusbandScott and I have agreed that it's best.

PostmodernScott: Well, somebody's got to go.

HomeOwnerScott: Not me. Scott's father keeps giving me the paddles ever four months. He just won't let me die. Just try and kill me...I dare you.

FatherScott: Now, now...let's talk. I don't think any of us have to die. We just need to make some cutbacks...all of us.

LethargicScott: I heard this same garbage back when HusbandScott came a few years ago. Every time a new guy comes, a little more of me dies. I used to eat Burger King once a week! Once a week, people! Nobody's given more than me!!!!

FatherScott: Oh, shut up. Everybody knows you had the most to give. You're still twice as powerful as nearly everybody in the room.

HomeOwnerScott: You kick my tail on a daily basis...and you beat him within an inch of his life every Christmas.

StayInShapeScott moans from the corner.

FatherScott: He's right. But that's not the point. We all have to make sacrifices. All of us. Even them.

FatherScott points a finger down to the end of the room where several older, mostly disinterested members sit. A gasp comes from the room.

PostmodernScott: Not them. We all like them. Check that, love them. They never hurt anybody...just leave them alone.

FatherScott: Nope. We all have to chip in. Hey! Wake up!

MovieScott, watching Goldfinger on his laptop, turns to the group.

MovieScott: Were you talking to me? You know you're not doing anything to me.

FatherScott: Remember, a couple of months ago, when you saw the trailer to "Space Chimps" and said you would (and I quote): "Swallow a quart of Mr. Clean before you went to that movie?"

MovieScott: Yeah?

FatherScott: Remember when you forced your dad to go to "Oliver and Company?"

MovieScott: Oh crap.

FatherScott: And you...

LethargicScott: Leave him alone!!! He's like a father to me!

PastorScott: Yeah...I need him. Badly.

FatherScott: No exceptions. WAKE UP!

A man dressed in pajama pants and holding a remote control slowly rises from the couch in the corner.

SundayAfternoonNapScott: Wha? Guys, I was sleeping.

FatherScott: We're going to need you to be flexible for a while.

SundayAfternoonNapScott: You can't touch me. I have tenure.

FatherScott: None of us are stupid enough to think that you're going anywhere...we all know your family a little too well to be that naive. But, that said, we're all chipping in.

SundayAfternoonNapScott: This really seems a bit harsh.

LethargicScott: You're tellin' me.

Whole room begins to buzz with hostility and defensiveness...fingers are pointed at FatherScott.

FatherScott: Oh...I'm sorry...I nearly forgot. Here.

FatherScott produces two pictures; one of his pregnant wife, the other the ultrasound of his son. The room falls silent.

PastorScott (smiling): O.K...let's get to work. I think it's time somebody else organized the CROP Walk anyway...

HomeOwnerScott: Got the painting done already.

StayInShapeScott: Haven't shot hoops in a while...anybody got a ball?

MovieScott: As long as Barney isn't involved, I'll be OK.

FatherScott slowly and quietly leaves the room...leaving the pictures behind. He slowly shuts the door behind him.

FatherScott: See you in May. Buckle up.

END

Avoiding Hell

2008-12-10T12:52:00.005-07:00

It caught me off guard...and still leaves me a bit unsettled. It was the first Sunday of Advent and I was doing your run-of-the-mill Advent Children's Sermon. I was talking about bells; about how they can be used to signal a significant event (weddings, church services, etc.) or to tell us to get going (school bells, alarm clocks, etc.) I talked about bells being a part of Advent and Christmas and I asked the children why we might ring bells on November 30. The kids yelled out the wonderful expected answers (and few random ones); "Jesus is coming!" "We're having turkey!" "Come and join us!" But one answer caught my attention in particular, caught me off guard, and grieved me a bit. One boy, with a genuinely stressed look in his eyes, said:

"We need to warn people that Jesus is coming!"

I almost didn't finish the children's sermon. "We've failed," I thought, "here's a boy who has been coming to our church all of his life, and he's evidently scared of Jesus."

God apparently wants me to think about this...because I can't get it out of my head, and it keeps popping up. I've been having an e-mail "conversation" with someone for a little over a month now about whether or not we are living in the end times. He's scared, nervous, and edgy. "We've got to get to word out...about the terrible consequences of remaining asleep. We have to let them know that the times are wicked and evil is powerful so that they can choose the path of Christ." In reading articles and looking for Advent resources, I keep coming across lessons highlighting the "power of secular society" and the teetering Christian faith.

I've written about something like this before...but I guess I'm still working on it. I guess I feel for that little boy because I've been there. I feel for that little boy because I've felt completely inadequate, completely broken, and (as a result) completely terrified of impending judgment. I converted...and kept on converting, never feeling like I quite "had it." I always screwed up...always misstepped...was always (it seemed) a breath away. Not that this really is where my family or church were coming from at all...I have mental albums upon mental albums of bedrock moments of learning and faith from home and our church. But alongside them there were those moments I think all of us who have grown up in church have (sermons, speakers, a camp counsellor obsessed with Revelation) that I remember because, quite frankly, they scared the tar out of me. They made a lasting impact. And so, on my worst days, the earth takes on the shape of an obstacle course filled with peril, the Christian life a tightrope, and discipleship consisted of the things I did out of fear; obligations that allowed me to avoid hell. And on those worst days, whatever I did never felt like enough.

I think a lot of us do it, really...maybe all of us. We avoid hell in our own ways. We punch the clock, deal with our obligations, show up...simply to avoid hell. Some of us try and work our way away from it. We carefully spend our time analyzing, spelling out, and chastising the evils of this world...those who are even further behind than we are. We study the pitfalls, the weaknesses, and the evils and build our walls ever-higher to keep them out. We "defend" the faith." We passionately and vividly describe the power and intensity of the flames so that we might not be victims of their power.

And on our best days, we're something more than just avoiding hell and reading the list of "do's" and "dont's." We see why we do and don't. We see Jesus as a gift instead of just a warning. We proclaim boldly that the darkness will never consume the light. We throw open the doors so that we might share and become more Christ-like together. We see God's hand in this world, working to bring life and go out do everything we can to proclaim it, live it, and spread it...even in strangers. We study Christ and tear down our defenses to give him more of ourselves. We share our faith. We pray, worship, and serve naturally because they are signs of that hope and grace. We hear and follow the most frequent command in the Bible: "Do not fear." We humbly embrace Christ. We bear the light.

We stop thinking about hell...and do everything we can to let God make us a dim, but powerful, little mirror of heaven.

Ranking Bond Revisited

2008-12-01T13:26:00.003-07:00

First off, I would like to make the comment that I think it's pretty cool that if you type "Ranking Bond Movies" into Google, my previous page pops up at number 2. The negative byproduct of said placement is that I get comments like the newest one on that page that simply reads "bad taste." Thanks for taking the time.

That said...that person has a point. The rankings are a bit dated (especially now that a new movie is on the scene.) I made my way through most of the movies (if not parts of them) again before "Quantum of Solace" and found myself liking others more than I remembered ("From Russia With Love") and not liking others as much ("Live and Let Die.") So, for the sake of posterity and a incredibly short blog, here's the new list:

22. Diamonds Are Forever
21. License to Kill
20. View to a Kill
19. The Man With the Golden Gun
18. Tomorrow Never Dies
17. Live and Let Die
16. You Only Live Twice
15. Thunderball
14. Die Another Day
13. Moonraker
12. Dr. No
11. Octopussy
10. The World is Not Enough
9. The Living Daylights
8. Quantum of Solace
7. For Your Eyes Only
6. On Her Majesty's Secret Service
5. The Spy Who Loved Me
4. GoldenEye
3. Casino Royale
2. From Russia With Love
1. Goldfinger

Now that's taken care of. More substantial posts to come soon.

Thanksgiving: Underrated Holiday

2008-11-20T10:34:00.005-07:00

I am scrambling this week...working hard. I'm running all over the place trying to tie up loose ends, planning ahead for the 1st Sunday of Advent, working ahead on the December 8th Session meeting, and a dozen other things...in general, going pretty close to full throttle. I know that a handful of you may be surprised by this. You may find yourself asking, "Why? Why would you, a notorious procrastinator, suddenly become a motivated, plan-ahead go getter?" The answer, my friends, is simple:

I love Thanksgiving.

I don't want anything bothering me/distracting me/hovering over my head next week. I want to enjoy the festival that is Thanksgiving in all of its glory...no distractions of duties. I want to enjoy spending time with my family and friends. I want to enjoy watching football. I want to enjoy the food. It's all quite simple, really, Thanksgiving is rapidly becoming my favorite holiday.

Now, I know. Put away the comments for a second. I know you've started writing them. Comments like: "Uh, pastor...how about the celebration of the birth of OUR LORD AND SAVIOR!?!?!?!?" and "Hey, pastor pagan, how about you worship your cornucopia on somebody else's time, eh?" Hear me out. Let's first establish a theological baseline: I am in no way claiming that Thanksgiving can touch Christmas or Easter with a ten-foot cattle prod from a standpoint of theological/religious significance. Advent and Christmas are importation celebrations that represent key foundations of eschatology, incarnation, and the like. And Easter...is Easter, the reason for it all. But especially when it comes to theology, they win that bout by knockout every single time. But...that said...let's look at this honestly. When's the last time your hear somebody say, "You know what I love about Christmas? The Theology." Yeah.

What I'm talking about here is the practice...the observation of the holiday. Where the rubber meets the road. And while there are undeniably wonderful traditions associated with Christmas (think candlelight services, caroling, and children's' Christmas plays), there are wonderful benefits to Thanksgiving, too. And, on that sheer practice front, I think that I can argue for my greater appreciation of the 4th Thursday of November:

1) Better football. Everybody talks about bowl games being meaningful and yadda yadda yadda. Give me the rivalries of that weekend in November any day. Give me John Madden giving away a 8-legged turkey to Lions' offensive line. Give me Leon Lett kicking the ball around. Many of the pros are wrapping it up/playing the backups come December, and the December bowl games are...well, December bowl games. Great if you're really pumped about that Kansas State-East Carolina matchup that will end up at 7-2 because they haven't played real football for a month...but for the rest of us, bad news.

2) No party at work. Or, even better, the "Spouse's work party." As much as I love watching complete strangers get absolutely mowed...I'll pass, thank you. Let's all just calm down, scale back on the Nogg, and enjoy the spinach dip, salmon platter, and deli-sliced ham and cheese tray, OK?

3) No over-exposure. Heard Cheryl Crow's new Thanksgiving album? Seen "Thanksgiving with the American Idol All-Stars on Ice?" Perused a copy of "The Thanksgiving Shoes?" Caught the hilarious Tim Allen in "The Pilgrim Clause 3?" Did radio stations in your area start switching over to 24/7 Thanksgiving songs two months ago? Do you receive stacks of Thanksgiving mailers from merchants four-feet deep in your Post Office box? The prosecution rests, your honor.

4) Better food. Let's get something right out of the way here...I did not say "better cookies." That's a battle Thanksgiving doesn't even want to start. But when it comes to the traditional spread, Christmas has no chance. Ham? Ham? Yeah, right. Sausage wanna-be. And, as much as I love eating cinder blocks with Mike-N-Ikes crammed into them...fruitcake? Come on people. Roll out the turkey with stuffing and gravy. Pile up the yams with marshmallows. And then top it all of with glorious pie of the pecan or pumpkin variety. Then sit back and enjoy the divine genius of God infusing these foods with sleep-inducing chemicals, providing for a five hour coma...and then wake up for the no-further-preparation glory of cold turkey sandwiches that await as you slowly return from the dead. How do you top this? And Christmas knows this. In fact, Thanksgiving is so rockin' that we now just do "Thanksgiving II: Turkey's Revenge" for Christmas.

5) No presents. Maybe the best one of all. I like giving gifts, I really do. But the combined pressure of finding something "perfect," playing the over/under on how much Mr. Don't-Know-You-All-That-Well is going to spend on you, and then braving the apocalyptic vision that is shopping anywhere on a weekend in late November or December...and there you have it. One of my enduring memories of Christmas shopping is being in line at a Toys R Us in Kansas City about 6 years ago at 5:00 waiting in lines 13 deep as child after child went completely nuclear around us...screaming for toys they wanted, screaming to go home, screaming screaming screaming screaming as their parents fought over who was in line first, yelled snide remarks to the cashiers, and made sideways threats over the last Barbie corvette. Good times. Ho ho ho.

6) Fewer Expectations. Tied for the best one of all, I think. The older I get, the more I realize that we place so much pressure on Christmas that it produces an unheard of amount of stress on the average person. Combine equal parts pressure to decorate, cook, buy presents, send cards, and travel with that strange "everything must go perfectly" vibe that floats around come December...and it really gets out of control. I've seen it completely destroy perfectly good trips, meals, and visits. If we visit our families in, oh I don't know, mid-June, you don't see people running around, pulling their hair out, and muttering, "The hamburgers are dry!!! But (gulp) the whole family is here and it's Flag Day honey. Flag Day! I've ruined Flag Day!!"

It's not Christmas, I know that. And I love the lights, the celebration, the excitement from the kids when they get their presents. But there's something about a relatively low-maintenence holiday that sneaks up on you a bit...that lets you sit back and just be with family. There's something about everybody with enough money for some turkey and mashed potatoes being able to celebrate it without feeling as if they're missing out or shorting their kids. There's something about going around the table and giving thanks instead of buying more stuff. There's something to be said for simplicity.

I love Christmas...but I can't tell you thankful I am and how ready I am for Thanksgiving.

My Vote: Perspective/Civility '08

2008-10-28T14:31:00.012-06:00

I've had it. I'm sorry...but really, I've completely had it.

Maybe it is the sixth story I've heard/e-mail I've read from pastor friends in the past month of parishioners calling or writing them to tell them that the "Anti-Christ" or "A Great Evil" is running for President and that "God will hold them accountable" if they don't tell their congregations how to vote. Maybe it is the fact that I've seen people put up article after article on Facebook citing how Sarah Palin is a simple-minded clothes-horse or how Barak Obama will elect Karl Marx as his Secretary of the Treasurer...and have yet to see a single article about the positives of any candidate.

Maybe it was the woman at the funeral for a parishioner who used the eulogy time at her friend's funeral to tell everybody that the deceased was, "...very concerned and frightened about the election...so I think we all should vote for (candidate here)." Maybe it is the deep sighs, comments, hand-wringing, and even prayer requests I've heard over the past month or so as people mutter silently about the "troubling," even "terrifying" event of the "other guy" somehow winning...and the not-so-quiet implications I've heard in some church circles that God will "remove his hand of favor" if the election doesn't swing right (seems like our own greed is doing enough right now...but I digress). Maybe it's the stories people are telling me about friends not having coffee anymore, family dinners erupting into screaming matches, and threats of excommunication from pulpits if votes don't go a certain way.

I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it because once again, America has bought it. We bought it back in 2004--the "THIS ELECTION IS THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT EVENT IN THE HISTORY OF HUMANKIND" line--and we fought. We stirred the pots of fear, hate, and mistrust. We got the blood boiling. We made it a holy war. We turned a war hero into a liar. We turned the president into a complete idiot. I read an article after the election that studied the exit polls and suggested that, to be more accurate, the ballots should have been changed to read "Not Bush" and "Not Kerry." It exhausted me, made me feel ill when it was all over. Following the election, I didn't feel like I was "supporting" anybody...I was just deciding who was more loathsome and voting against them. It didn't feel like anybody won. I sure didn't. And I don't think I was alone in feeling that way. But four years later, it's happening again...and on November 4th, I've heard again, it's not about voting for somebody; it's about standing up against the Baby-Killing Marxist Terrorist or the Ancient, Lying Spawn of George Bush and the Devil.

Sigh.

Can we do this some other way? Can we talk about the fact that-one way or another-we're about to do something truly historic on November 4th? Can we talk about two candidates who found a way our of extreme circumstances to become giving, service-minded Americans? Can we talk about...radical idea here...how they're going to help rather than how the other guy's going to hurt? Can we stop the scapegoating? Can we stop the threats? Can we make decision that isn't based on fear and disgust? More than all of that...can we act like Christians? Can we remember that our hope doesn't lie in a major party or the stock market or a tax plan? Can we vote for somebody without making the other guy a minion of Satan? Can we stand up for something rather than standing against everything?

I keep coming back to that idea of providence; that simple and wonderful notion that God's already won the day...and promises to take a steady hand and guide us through anything the future might hold. I keep coming back to that powerful, simple fact of Romans 8 and changing it a bit. Nothing...not Sarah Palin in the White House, nor an Obama Tax Plan, nor Joe the Plumber, nor Jeremiah Wright, nor socialism, nor $150, 000 on clothes, nor failed policies, nor the economy, nor the Democrats or the Republicans...will keep us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

I breathe. I pray for a nation-wide chill pill. I keep reminding myself that my vote, while important, is vastly overrated these days. And whatever happens...I give thanks because, above all else, the Son will come up on November 5th.

8 Suggestions For President

2008-10-22T12:43:00.016-06:00

As a public service to undecided voters and an outlet for my ongoing frustration with the nature of politics, elections, and the like...I give you, for your consideration, the case for 8 individuals for the office of President of the United States.

8. Bob from Sesame Street
Forget the staggeringly tired metaphor of Wall Street and Main Street...give me Sesame Street. How is it humanly possible to get more American than that? Bob will trump any possible opponent on education and offer a compassionate, conciliatory tone to any negotiation. With a simple song about compromise, he'll bring Republicans and Democrats having a spat over taxes together faster than Oscar the Grouch and Slimey having a spat about where to put the record player in the garbage can. He has shown that he can deal with everyone from the chronically anxious (Telly) to the staggeringly annoying (Elmo) to the elderly (Mr. Hooper.) And hey...give him a question, any question, on education and he'll mop the floor with you.
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--First off, (small catch here) he's a Canadian. Look it up. Second, everybody knows that somebody who talks about manners, respect, and the importance of communication would never "take the gloves off" to the like of the party. Plus, chances are you're looking at a giant talking bird for a running mate.
Sample line from attack ad--Minor key version of "One of these things is not like the other" plays in the background. Ad shows him talking to Snuffalupagus. "Bob's out of touch with reality...he talks to hallucinations. He trumpets the benefits of 'being nice'? Can we risk this type of leadership? In a time of national instability...can we really afford...to be nice?"

7. Lando Calrissian
As the Baron Administrator of Cloud City, he has executive experience. He weighed the needs of the many over the needs of the few by making a short-sighted deal with the empire. Seeing that he created a situation with his faulty decision making, he did what he needed to do to correct the situation. He's a decorated war hero, leading a suicide mission into the second Death Star with some eight-cheeked freak for a co-pilot. He wears a cape...case closed.
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--The whole history of smuggling and gambling thing might be a detriment. Not to mention the whole "making a deal with Darth Vader" thing. Also shows a Clintonesque eye for the obviously attached Princess Leia at first...very troubling.
Sample line from attack ad--Pan out to show craps table. "He's gambled with his life. He's gambled with his decisions. He's gambled by palling around with Darth Vader." A baby is placed on the "No Pass" line. "Will he gamble with your childrens' future?"

6. The San Diego Chicken
Who can't get behind funny? The Chicken has been throwing pies at people since the mid-70s. Can you imagine the debate ratings? The anti-umpire and pro-"Louie Louie" planks of his platform would be untouchable. And foreign relations? Who's gonna hate the San Diego Chicken? Really, how can you denounce the San Diego Chicken?
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--The whole "doesn't talk" think might be a hurdle. Although if there's one thing elections have taught me it's that the power of speech is grossly overrated. Would help rally the Southern California vote, but every other baseball market would hesitate. Likely running mate "The Phillie Phanatic" would be a tough sell.
Sample line from attack ad--"Is this economy really a laughing matter? What will it tell the terrorists if we elect..." dramatic close-up, change to black and white "...a chicken? And why is he strangely silent on the issues that matter to you?"

5. Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto
He completely dominates everyone who comes in to Kitchen Stadium. In fusing American and Japanese cuisine, he has shown creativity, skill, and ingenuity in routinely making desert out of kobe beef, cow liver, and live eels. Successful entrepreneur who has started a handful of restaurants in America and made the transition into American culture. Young and brash (you might say "a maverick") on the original series, has now adapted a warm, self-effacing persona.
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--Born in Japan. Speaks stilted, awkward English. Animal lobbies would be squeamish about his record of slaughtering fish and lobsters live on television. Possibility of wars started over cutting boards and filleting techniques. Running mate Bobby Flay would push through thousands upon thousands of dollars in pablano pepper and quail egg subsidies.
Sample line from attack ad--Picture of Morimoto in traditional Japanese dress. "Do we really want Japan calling the shots in the White House?" Rapid cut to a menu at his restaurant. "In this financial crisis, Joe the Plumber can't even afford an appetizer at his restaurant. He's rich. He's risky. He's not from around here."

4. Jefferson Davis "Boss" Hogg
Executive experience as the Commissioner of Hazzard County. Big on law enforcement; spends thousands upon thousands of dollars a year on elaborate speed traps and police cruisers. Also a tireless advocate of infrastructure improvements, as evidenced by the ever-present road construction within the county. Has also successfully turned rural Hazzard County into an entertainment mecca, featuring national road race finals, beauty pageants, and everyone from Waylon Jennings to Willie Nelson performing at his local eatery, "The Boar's Nest."
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--Heavily (literally) pro-tobacco and moonshine. Continually surrounds himself with incompetent advisers. Easily distracted by chitlin' pizza. Has tried to drive Jesse the Farmer and his family off their land for decades. He (Sorrell Booke) is also dead...but I guess that didn't stop the Democrats in 2004 and the Republicans in 1996.
Sample line from attack ad--Picture of money flying out a window..."Dixie" plays softly in the background. "He's spent thousands and thousands of dollars and ten years chasing two hicks in a Dodge Charger without any luck...how is he going to get Osama Bin Laden?" Transition to Israel's national flag. "Nice try, Hogg...but America needs something a little more kosher."

3. Bob Barker
For 35 years, this man gave away cash and prizes to thousands upon thousands of Americans. Showed deeper social conscience as well, advocating for pet population control and other charities. Showed a calming touch with all sorts of lunatics and a compassionate side when the wheel showed more than a dollar total. Internationally popular and astoundingly durable.
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--Bob likes him the ladies. On top of several well-publicized lawsuits with various "Barker's Beauties," Bob often insisted that contestants reach into his trousers to retrieve C-notes for getting the exact bids after coming on stage. Running mate Bob Eubanks also problematic for his enigmatic and controversial "Whoopie Education Program."
Sample line from attack ad--"Bob Barker's going to take your hard-earned money and give it away like some European Socialist." Cut to Bob signing off in black and white. "In these difficult times, can we take the risk that Bob Barker will have our economy spayed and neutered? The Price is Wrong, Bob."

2. Rip Taylor
The moustache alone could rule the world. While one might not initially think that an prop comic would be a natural choice for President, I must once again bring up the pure debate potential: "Helllo! Senator Obama!!! Can you hear me? Is this thing on!?!?! What's up with your tax plan!?!?! Holy mackerel!" (Produces rubber fish.) Ratings through the roof, I tell you. Potential running mate Slappy White would offer the opportunity for spectacular "Rip Slappy '08" campaign signs. Add to that the power of confetti...and I smell a winner.
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--His real name is "Charles Elmer Taylor," not nearly as fun. Trademark bit of ripping off his toupee for comedic effect could anger senior voters, not to mention everyone else. Alternate running mate Don Rickles could start WWW3 by referring to some Head of State as a "Hockey Puck."
Sample line from attack ad--Picture of Rip with a large question mark, "Who is the real Rip Taylor? Why does he feel the need to hide his real name? His real hairline? Tough times demand honest solutions. All Charles Elmer Taylor offers is confetti."

1. Jesus Christ
Savior of humankind, Prince of Peace, God incarnate sent down to redeem us all through the self-giving act of his life, death, and resurrection. Miracle worker.
Why he'll never be nominated by a major party--Living proof that the death penalty doesn't work as a deterrent. Undermines free-market capitalism and consumer confidence by repeatedly denouncing the need for money and spending. Adamantly pro-life in every sense of the word. Will never put country first. Waaaay too evangelical. Stubbornly refuses negative campaigning and chooses to turn the other cheek in debates. Against big government. Keeps giving away campaign contributions. Soft on crime, lacks the "spine" to go to war. Hangs around with undesirable people. Running mate and "attack dog" John the Baptist is a complete P.R. nightmare. Never panders to the base. Always works for his constituency. Never makes empty promises. Deliberately, compassionately, intentionally reaches across every aisle. Loves, challenges, and inspires without using fear, finger-pointing, or elitism. Way too risky.

And with that, I'm done.

Ranking: Potato Chips

2008-09-15T09:53:00.009-06:00

Well, now...that's enough of the heavy stuff for a bit, eh? Let's take a break. Let's dodge the political spit wads, hate mail, and debates about lipstick...and let's get down and dirty and talk about something of truly monumental importance: junk food.

Like every youngster raised in the 80s/90s, I had a serious craving for snacks. I sucked down my fair share of Little Debbie snack cakes, Dr. Peppers, and Kit Kats...but a special place in my heart was always reserved for unnaturally-colored magnificence of the potato chip aisle. With the help of my family, I consumed my share of chips over the years, and by college considered myself something of a connoisseur. It was about that time, in a conversation with my two best friends, that I came to the realization that, in my universe, 5 chips stood above the rest. I named them "The Pentavaret" and spent the rest of my College/Grad School/Bachelor days advocating for these snacks...by buying and consuming as many of them as I could.

But then, thanks be to God, came marriage. And the woman I love soon realized that there was a pretty good chance that my blood was the consistency of Silly Putty. And so, these 5 wonderful brothers-in-arms who once comprised a personal food group have been reduced to yearly (if that) indulgences. I don't miss them as much as you might think. They are like those friends from way back that you know might have killed you...but you still find yourself drawn to them (and to the half-man-half-goat you used to be.) But I still miss them. So here...for nostalgia's sake...is the "Pentavaret" in all of its glory.

5. Bacon and Cheddar Tato Skins

The diabolical Keebler elves rolled out their latest weapon to fatten, and thus conquer America in 1987. It was their most effective weapon against me, and was timed perfectly for the height of my junk-food consuming abilities. Between it and the Fudge Stripe cookie...our house lined the pockets of many a rich elf. This chip-overlord was the "Tato Skin." The Tato Skin still comes in three flavors, but it is the powdered-cheesy goodness teamed with the nothing-less-than-devine power of bacon that blows away the Sour Cream and Chive and (don't even waste my time here) Plain versions of the chip. The novelty of the chip was the one-side-darker technology that the bag told you was the "skin." (Yes...and by "skin," they mean a monosodiuglutenate #4 instead of monosodiuglutinate #3.) The reason this chip is ranked so low on the totem pole is because it is now nearly impossible to find. A trip to http://www.tatoskins.com/ will direct you to the "Inventure Group," a company still trying to keep up the brand by marketing them alongside such geographically-confused industry juggernaunts as "Bob's Texas Style Sweet Maui Onion Potato Chips." I haven't seen them in years...and if I did, I imagine it would be like a re-creation of that scene in "The Natural" when Roy Hobbs finally talks to Glenn Close after all those years and she says: "I used to look for you in crowds. One day...I guess I just stopped looking." You are Roy Hobbs, Tato Skins. I miss you...and you might have been the best that ever was. Oh...yeah...one other thing...I didn't have your baby.

4. Chili Cheese Fritos

Fritos are good, Ranch Fritos are better, but this unique incarnation of Frito takes the cake. Packaged in a deceptively small, but densely packed bag...the only "problem" with Chili Cheese Fritos in how easy it is to talk yourself into taking down an entire bag. And that, friends, is like a SubPrime Mortgage or buying a St. Bernard puppy: File it under "It sure seemed like a good idea at the time." The closest thing I can compare it to would be swallowing two momma badgers whole after separating them from their young. Not pretty. On the plus side, they work extremely well in the most classic of Frito applications including application on top of chili, in the middle of burritos, and (my personal favorite) smashed and melted into a grilled cheese sandwhich. Yes...I'm still alive. Yes...I do realize that it's a miracle.

3. Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles

Technically called "Cheddar 'N Sour Cream Ruffles," but every time I use the big capital "N," the little English Teacher inside me dies a little. I'm usually not a big fan of "regular" potato chips, especially in their more traditional flavors. The over-sweet potato chip BBQ flavor makes me a bit queasy and the generic "Sour Cream and Onion" chips just take like onion salt to me. But these beauties who, again, conveniently came on the scene during my prepubescent years, brought me back to the basics. I can remember at one point saying something to the effect of: "I would eat an asbestos tile if it were covered in that stuff." Unfortunately, the good folks at Ruffles gave me that chance a few years back by producing the "Baked" version of this chip. 21st Century Semi-Healthy/Getting Older/Broccoli-Eating Scott tried them a few years back and nearly broke into tears because the age-old adage was proven right once again: put all the peanut butter you want on it, folks...it's still celery.

2. Cool Ranch Doritos
I don't remember exactly when it was in the 80's, but I do remember the sheer novelty of a new flavor of Doritos. We had only previously known the joy of regular old Doritos and their processed cheesy goodness...but suddenly, out of nowhere, the FritoLay company came up with a whole new mega-salt/chemical concoction to put on their chips known as "Cool Ranch." I would never eat regular (now "Nacho Cheese"--oh, so that's what that was...) Doritos ever again. Well...OK...so that's not true, but I definitely preferred "Cool Ranch." In true American style, Doritos has now expanded to include 8,543,209 flavors including--not joking--"Sweet Chili Heat" and an oh-so-square "Ranch" variety that gets sand kicked in its face at the beach...but the 2nd incarnation remains the king in my books. They even tried a marketing scheme of calling it "Cooler Ranch" (along with "Nacho Cheesier") a while back. Cooler...yeah, right. Short of throwing a few dashes of Eye of Fonzie in there, how is that possible? Come on. Oh...and in another interesting experiment, 21st Century Healthy/Boring/Trying to Living Longer Scott also tried the baked variety of these and...yeah. The baked "corn chips" sucked every last drop of saliva out of my mouth like some mutant sponge. Thanks, FritoLay, but I'd rather die of the fat.

Editorial note: For the entire previous paragraph, I kept wanting to put "Doritoes," but that...I think...is the word for the lower digits of someone named Dorothy. And I don't care what you put on those, I ain't eatin' them.

1. Crunchy Cheddar Cheese Cheetos
I can not emphasize the importance of the "Crunchy" part enough. Keep the puffs, you patsies...they're packing peanuts. Trust me, they are. And don't give me the twists, either...take a side on the Crunchy/Puffy debate, flip-floppers. And the baked? Oh...come on, people. Are we learning nothing here? Baking chips is like throwing holy water on a vampire, OK? And as for the "Flaming Hot" variety...come on...they're not Hotos, people...they're Cheetos. This, friends, is the Elvis of snacks...bow to the king. From the Chernobyl-yellow color to the surprising density of them...they reign supreme. I have recently discovered the pure joy of putting Cheetos into a sandwich. Cramming cheetos into a regular turkey sandwich on white is roughly the same as introducing a monkey to Session meeting. Not only is it unexpected, unorthodox, and borderline insane...but you end up wondering how you ever did without it. On top of that, they include my favorite chip side-effect,"Cheeto-hands," the wonderful cheesy residue left on your fingers that is impossible to wash off. For those who are not picky about hygiene, this allows for continued "snacking" for the rest of the day. And so, for these reasons and many more, the Cheeto rules the Pentavaret.

And now...with that...I'm hungry. I will now be going to the store where I will wander the aisle gently calling out for Tato Skins. Please, whatever you do, don't tell Julie.

"Other Duties"

2008-09-11T10:50:00.005-06:00

I just spent 45 minutes cleaning our basement. Many things led to this. Our custodian quit about three weeks ago without giving any notice, the repeated pleas to the congregation for help in cleaning went mostly unheeded (outside of the help of those who already are doing way too much), and tonight is our monthly potluck/fellowship event and we are inviting in a singing group from the local high school and their parents.

And so, for reasons I can't completely explain, I found myself scrubbing toilets this morning...leaving my unfinished sermon to be completed piecemeal over the weekend.

Sigh.

I know I'm not supposed to do it. I know all that small church theory that tells me that I should let the church look like garbage tonight and let the church feel the shame of it, and then (in theory) the church will take action. I know all of that and have even tried it on occasion...I recited it to myself again as I sat in the basement and cleaned away.

The "problem" is that I love this church. I want the Sunday School to thrive...I want the place to be clean. I want it to be something more than just a run0down building on the corner. I want people to walk into our basement and not think to themselves, "Boy, they're really letting themselves go." And Julie bends over backwards to teach Sunday School. And I try something new to try and set off that spark...that fire...that gets people excited about being participants (I've found myself back from leaders) in what God is trying to do here. More than anything...I want to take all the "I"s out of the previous paragraph and see God working in and through the people here to something new and profound and life-changing.

I don't clean because I'm a control freak. I clean, mostly, so that those ten-or-so poor souls who do everything don't have to do more. I do it because I feel it needs to be done...all the while hoping for a day when it will get done because somebody else is committed to doing it. But I end up feeling bad about it, because I am that most terrifying of modern terms...an enabler.

These are the days when work at a larger church calls like a siren...misleading and deadly. Days when the "compliments" like, "We'd be nothing without you..." feel even more like defeat. Days when I look back at my application and see the statement: "What I love about church ministry is the variety." This is variety, I'll give it that. I'm a bookkeeper, a copy writer, a motivational speaker, a babysitter, an entertainer, a handyman, a landlord, a referee, a contractor, a troubleshooter, a sales representative, and a janitor....

But, on certain days, really feel nothing like a pastor.

How The Political Conventions Are Killing My Will To Vote

2008-09-04T12:49:00.004-06:00

I want to be informed. I want to be a good American, a good voter. I've followed the primaries, done some reading on the subject. I've formed some ideas. I've made a go of it...I really have.

But now it's convention season once again and, at the end of the day, I hate to say it...they just won't let me do it. They just won't let me feel passionate or confident...they won't let me feel good about voting for anybody. In the end, it feels like no matter what choice I make, I'm still casting a vote for a Politician.

Not that I can entirely blame the conventions...I'll take some of the blame. I've tried to avoid them, I really have...but while we were on vacation, the conventions and "analysis" found their way onto our television in the hotel rooms. I found my way to them again last night. Maybe it's curiosity, maybe it's hope, maybe it's sadomasochism. But I just keep running into the same things.

One of the most insightful things I have heard about recent American politics was the statement, "Americans don't know who they support any more...but they sure know who they hate." This has been what has been on display for every convention I can remember. Last year was an excellent example. The speeches I saw/read/saw "highlights" from at both conventions were stunningly similar. The DNC worked to paint George Bush as a warmongering, lying, environment-killing, isolationist idiot and the RNC worked equally hard to show John Kerry as an unpatriotic, God-hating, baby-killing flip flopper who wanted to raise your taxes. The DNC didn't really talk all much that about Kerry...the RNC didn't really talk all that much about Bush. They didn't talk about their candidates or their platforms or what they hoped to achieve outside of some general, benign statements like, "I think we should stop using so much oil," and "I think education is important." (Might as well have thrown in "I'm pro-puppies" and "I'm totally committed to doing all I can to stop bad things from happening.") They talked about how terrible life would be if you were stupid enough to elect the "Other Guy." They bandied hate, fear, and bloodlust around their arenas like tennis balls all week and then went home to let it fester. It was gruesome. And it was again this year.

What makes it harder is that I had hoped. I loved "Early Obama." Obama in Iowa got me excited. He talked about being unconventional. He talked about the hurts and crippling inactivity of division. He made stirring speeches about expecting the best out of everybody and listening to everybody, even those across the aisle. Most of all, he didn't take cheap shots at other candidates. He did something completely new...he actually talked about what he would like to do. He seemed different...like less of a Politician.

And I had hoped John McCain would be different. He has always gone out of his way to step outside the political boundaries. He resisted cheap shots early on, too...talking about some of the changes he hoped to be a part of. And he had always seemed like an affable, even-keeled, and open kind of guy to me. I got excited, too, when he went way out into left field to find an unconventional VP from a small town.

But..sure enough...at the conventions, the "teeth" and the "red meat" came out. I rallied my hopes again for the Obama speech. They guy's a heck of a speaker...and I was hoping for that "Early Obama," a sweeping, inspirational speech that would talk about what was possible, about his goals and vision...about who he is and what he hopes to do. He had some of that (I loved that part of his speech that talked about working towards a common good), but there was also plenty of blaming, jabs, and "fear the other guy" junk. And then, last night, I was hoping for something down-to-earth, connected, and real...and there was some of that (moments of wit and stories of how her roots formed her that I enjoyed) but, again, it didn't take long for the chainsaw to come out big-time...and just like the crowds at the DNC, the cheers were the loudest for the cheap shots.

And so these "outsiders" both followed suit with all-too-familiar speeches that I honestly feel (at this point) like I could write myself. RNC? Talk about guns, right-to-life, cutting taxes, insert God here and there...and make sure to mention how (insert Democrat here) will raise taxes, hurt small businesses, hates America, and doesn't really love Jesus. DNC? Talk about the environment, about social programs, reducing defense spending, and the evils of big business...and make sure to mention how (insert Republican here) is in the pocket of big oil, kills pandas for fun, wants to nuke every country that looks at us funny, and uses Jesus as a billy club.

I swear I could do it for them. And it's because I've learned from the same place they have...from the whims and methods of the parade of the soulless, blathering pundits that vomit "opinion" 24-hours a day on the news network of your choice. They want their candidates to mirror them...with more "red meat" and "conviction." They want them to be as arrogant, rude, and obstinate as they are...and compromise, rationality, and (God forbid) even listening to the "other guy" are not options. Interrupt, man! Yell louder! Put words in their mouth! Play soundbites over and over and over again. Michelle Obama hates America! Cindy McCain's a rich snob! Tear them all to pieces bit by bit by bit until there's nothing left that's noble or special or inspirational about them. For heaven's sake, don't ever admit you might be wrong...it's media bias! Attack! Defend! Rip them to shreds. Make them live in fear.

It wears me out...and it depresses me because I have come to realization that we will probably never have another great American president or another great American speech. Both require leadership and a hope for something greater on the part of the listeners. There will never be another Abraham Lincoln because every president will be immediately torn limb from limb by a collection of reporters, bloggers, and the like and irrationally deified by others. There will never be another Gettysburg Address because speeches that are meant to heal or unite us will be D.O.A. because they "flip-flop too much" and don't "appeal to the base." We'll just keeping doing what we've done to Clinton and Bush...vilifying or canonizing, depending on if you watch MSNBC or FoxNews or have an "R" or a "D" after your name on your driver's license. And the votes will continue to float around 50% as the people trying to figure it out just settle on "giving the other party another try."

And so I register Independent and hope for something else...for someone and something completely different. I wait to feel like somebody's being genuine. I wait for it not to be about the money. I wait for the day when I don't feel like I'm voting for the lesser of two evils. I wait for the day when the devolving political discourse leaves our political stages and churches. I wait for the day when I'm not called "naive" or "indecisive" because I don't blame the Republicans or the Democrats.

And I sigh as I watch the news and the conventions...because I'm not holding my breath.

To Shave Or Not To Shave

2008-05-07T16:01:00.005-06:00

My new pair of glasses came in on Tuesday...the first change of frames I have had since about 1997. The old glasses, magnificent warriors they were, were looking a bit scraggly and, to be completely honest, downright scary around the eye pads. Not kidding...they are green. The folks at the optometrist office let out an audible "Eeewww" and gathered around them as if they were looking at a dead opossum or something when I took them off. Anyway...picked out the new frames, they came yesterday...and I have a new face. But (if all goes according to plan) this will only be phase one.

Because I have decided to grow a goatee.

Yes, yes, I know. I've tried this whole "facial hair" thing before with disastrous results. Yes, I remember The Great Mustache Debacle of 1998. Yes, I remember my friends calling it my "Rookie Cop Mustache" and referring to me as "Officer Kowolski." Yes, I remember my friend begging me to shave before standing at his wedding...and then having to cringe as I looked at the pictures months later. No, no one noticed it...and, yes, when they did they usually had to force back laughter. These memories all remain.

But I think that I can do it this time...that I'm older, wiser, and (God willing) more able. I think I can pull it off...and I'm motivated (I know...says the Buffalo Bills.) So I'm going to try it. Which begs the question:

Why? Why take the next 9 months (conservative estimate) to grow facial hair? Why subject yourself to the snickers and non-stop questions? Don't you have a zone of zero-hair growth you refer to as the "No Man's Land" that would separate this theoretical goatee into a mustache and awkward chin-cover? On top of that...why now?

As my obvious lack of posting indicates, things have been up-and-down since about the turn of the year, with the last few months in particular leaving me feeling like a punching bag. Mission trips have been ignored, worried over, and then canceled, an increasing number of tasks have been placed on my desk, running has been avoided, and I have set-up a summer home in the not-so magical land of self-pity where I enjoy spending time thinking about "Nirvana Presbyterian Church"...the place where the sermons will come easily, the parishioners will never begin sentences with "You should...," and the pastor will be seen for the saint/genius/pariah that he is. And so, to be honest, I have spent my share of time wallowing around the muck the past few months...thinking only about what I feel God has left out instead of what God is putting in.

But I'm getting a feeling that a corner has been turned...thanks to a few therapy session with Saint Julie (yeah...I talked to the Vatican), having some good talks with friends and mentors, and pretty much deciding that moping around wasn't doing any good. I have stepped back and asked God to give me new eyes for old things. I've started to once again look at this church and what it means to be a pastor here (or anywhere for that matter.) And I've remembered that saying from seminary: "You can't force a system to change...you can only change yourself."

And along the way I've felt the urge to grow some facial hair. In general, those I've run it by from the congregation seem supportive/intrigued/eager to see a train wreck. My proposal passed the Presbyterian Women with flying colors and was met with a general "Why Not?" support from friends at Presbytery. Julie, no doubt considering the whole kissing-as-exfoliant for three weeks...er...three months, has adopted the well-used "Slight shake of the head with a smile: my husband's a freak...but for some reason I love him" posture. She seems to be in...for now...probably because she knows what's going on.

It was nailed on the head by our Executive Presbyter who responded, when I told him of my plans, with the following question: "Wait...you've only been a Presbyterian pastor for a year and a half and you're already this eager for change?"

Darn right I am. Let's shake things up. Let's look at this whole pastor thing differently. Let's get a little crazy. Let's try something. Let's not care what people think. Let's try something we've always wanted to try.

Let's change. Let it grow, baby...let it grow.

Me+Christian Rock=Complicated

2008-03-26T09:21:00.013-06:00

Greetings one and all. The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated (although, on the Thursday after Easter, it feels like there might be a little truth in them somewhere.) The spectre I like to call "church work" has been working me over like the heavy bag since Christmas...and so free time has been spent doing things significantly less important than blogging. Things like spending time with my wife, actually resting, and watching my parents paint our whole ground floor. You know...priorities and all that.

One of the church-related activities I participated in over the past month was a Newsboys concert a few weeks ago. A member of our church was particularly excited to go and Julie is a big fan...so we all went along with a small contingent from our congregation (as many of you have witnessed, our church is not exactly a mosh pit in the making demographically, but we had a delegation there.) It was your standard concert fare; there were three bands that preceded the main attraction, two truly awe-inspiring walls of speakers set to "Jet Landing In Your Ear Canal" and a good crowd for the three hour concert. I thought that the opening bands had a moderate amount of talent...about what I expected. But Newsboys surprised me with their talent/passion/originality. To some degree, they projected a "Trying to be U2" vibe...but all in all, they were better than I expected...and I got a kick out of hearing them. This, as many of you know, is saying something.

It's not that I'm vehemently against Christian rock. I was raised in a house full of Amy Grant, Sandy Patti, Michael W. Smith, and the like...I could even sing a few bars of my beloved Petra and Stryper if subject to a grand jury. But a few experiences changed my approach to Christian Rock:

1) Attending a Christian college in the late 90s. I heard at lot of Christian music; both live and recorded...both by choice and not. The dorms were a 24-hour-a-day DC Talk/Jars of Clay/Audio Adrenaline concert...and a good percentage of my friends played in bands where they covered Christian music and performed their own compositions. This was both good and bad. Good in that I saw "grassroots" Christian music...people performing as an act of worship...and witnessed truly effective "contemporary" worship for one of the first times in my life. Bad in that I also saw music used as a theological billy club and object of power. College was the time when I felt less Christian when people saw that I owned B.B. King, Neil Young, and the Rolling Stones...and I felt even worse when I sold all of them so I could show everybody how righteous I was. College was where I was told that hymns represented a "dying church." College was where found out that I would rather sing about God than myself. It was a good time of growth...but I guess you could say that it left me a bit skeptical.

2) Working at a Christian bookstore. I was hired to work at a Christian bookstore that had recently been bought out by a national conglomerate. I spent a lot of time in customer service reading the trade magazines and a lot of time watching the national office drive out the loyal employees of the former independent bookstore one by one. In both cases, it seemed like it was all about the money. I read interviews that made a direct correlation between album sales and faithfulness. I was told by our district manager that sales equalled evangelism. I stocked C.S. Lewis two shelves down from a book claiming that Tiger Woods was the anti-Christ. It was also where I met a lot of wonderful people, learned a great deal about the Bible, and even encountered some excellent Christian music. I made my peace with the store by eventually telling people, "It's a lot like Wal-Mart in there...there's some good stuff, you can't just pick anything up off the shelf, though."

But the more I think about it, the more I think that it was my decision to become a pastor that shaped my approach to Christian Rock. I have seen my share of folks in the ministry simply because they crave the "spotlight"...I have fought becoming that person myself as well. I have tried to be disciplined by pointing, as much as I can, to God Almighty...to the giver and not the gifts. I have tried to make genuineness and humility my goals...because I can see how completely sideways and twisted the pastorate can get when it becomes an ego trip. Heck, I've seen what it does in my life without the pastorate...I cringe to think of what it could do a congregation.

And so we reach the catch. Part of me, deep down, thinks that the very nature of rock music makes it awfully hard to be both humble and effective as a Christian rocker. The great bands explode with swagger and self-obsession...we are talking about a group of individuals that spend an awful lot of time singing about themselves and their experiences. They then take those songs...and perform them in large contexts where the focus is, ultimately, on them. Rock is notoriously and pretty much definitively self-indulgent. I would classify myself as a "U2 Christian" for the simple reason that they admit this self-indulgent aspect...they admit that they are in it to be rock stars...but they also hope to help some people along the way. B.B. King never pretended to be anything higher than just someone who sings the blues....there's an honesty there...he's there to sell albums. And, on top of that, selling more blues albums than somebody else can not be misconstrued by anyone as you being more"faithful" to the Blues or any such nonsense. I want you to be genuine. I want you to be honest about why you do what you do. When somebody, anybody, gets up on a stage and starts wailing on a ten minute guitar solo...well...cross around you neck or not, it's hard for me to honestly believe that it's about anything but the musician. The performer. One massive "look at me" moment that leads, at the end of the day, to everybody getting paid...because a mass of people wants to direct their attention to you.

And that sets off the alarm for me. I have heard so much, read so much, and seen so much on making sure that God is the center...the "audience" of worship. I have spent so much time in seminary, in church, in worship talking about giving our gifts freely so that people will be pointed to who God is and not who we are. I have worked, even against myself, to make Session meetings feel less like sales meetings. In my short time here, I have cringed with any reference to the life I have brought to church or the power of my ministry. I am passionate about...I have worked with a feeling of purpose and conviction...making church less and less about me as the pastor and more and more about God. I crave a shared "spotlight." We are called to be the church together...not draw attention to ourselves.

And so I guess you could say that my hesitancy with Christian Rock is that it just seems to personify the worst individualistic, self-promoting veins of the church where bigger and louder and more produced is better. It seems a bit too "look how talented my Jesus is"for me. And, I'll give it to you, I'm a bit cynical about the whole thing. I've seen one too many guitar solos and heard one too many cat calls in worship...and I've seen too many "worship leaders" work as hard as they can to make sure that all eyes are on them. I dug this hole...I'm biased. I'll admit that.

But a strange thing happened at that concert. Yes, I still cringed when the bands desperately plead with the audience to buy their merchandise. Yes, there were still moments when I caught my "nerd pastor" inner monologue questioning the theology of certain songs. But there was also something else as I sat in the audience for my first Christian concert since becoming a pastor. I thought about my call. I thought about getting up in front of a congregation every Sunday to present something creative and personal hoping that those gathered see beyond the craft to God. I thought about my hesitancy whenever my pay is discussed...and the way I bite my lip and justify my pay with quips about God's work still being work. I thought about the increased vocal and compositional theatrics I find myself using during the High Holy days of the church in hopes that I can draw something more in the response column. I think about the daily struggles I fight to stop myself and this church from thinking that I'm the center of attention here.

And so something else happened. I listened to them talk about their mission to raise money for poverty relief and self-sustenance programs. I listened as they read a Psalm and then let it breathe in the silence. I listened as the group belted out songs about the majesty of God's creation. And, yes, there were moments when I thought it might be a little too much...just like there are times on Sunday mornings when I think, "Where did that come from?" And there were moments when I scowled a bit at the theology...mirroring reactions I have seen in the pews. But what I realized is that there was something moving above all of that...something powerful and effective. And I gave thanks for it. I gave thanks that something got through...even to a guy who stacked his deck against the whole thing.

Because in that realization, the hope that I cling to was realized...that even with all the spotlights and speakers and sermons...God can and does come through (even in spite of our mess of pride and motivations) with something genuine and holy.

Ranking: The Blessing And The Curse of Christmas Music

2007-11-29T12:57:00.000-07:00

Well, I hope you're still out there...I realize that it's been a while. No, there was no bear trap involved...nothing more than a tag-team bout of apathy and busyness.

But here we are now...on the cusp of December and ready to dive head-first into ShopFest2007 (known, in some circles, as Advent.) I made trips to both the supermarket and Target yesterday, and was greeted (of course) by the number one sign that it's December: The piped-in Holiday Music. At the supermarket it was John Cougar Mellencamp's heart...check that...gag-reflex warming rendition of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" with a down-homey backbeat "Jack and Diane" feel to it. Somehow I ignored the nausea and (in my opinion) heroically kept shopping. Later, at Target, I was greeted at the door by the infuriatingly ubiquitous, robotic pinging, ode-to-Jesus-if-he-were-riding-in-an-elevator: Mannheim Steamroller's "Deck the Halls." I rolled my eyes as I considered the unstoppable insanity of Chip Davis...and started to make plans to avoid all places of commerce from now until mid-January. That was until electro-madness made way to simple, maginifcent sounds of the "Nutcracker." Suddenly, I felt better.

This, I realized, is the mixed bag of Christmas music. If asked what I thought of Christmas Music in general, I would probably answer (if answering generally and without thinking) that I like it. I'd think of "Silent Night" on Christmas Eve or caroling around the neighborhood to "Joy to the World!" I might even think of a few of the old records Mom and Dad used to throw on the player as we decorated the Christmas tree. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that the whole Christmas music thing is a mixed bag for me. So here, as an attempt to clarify things myself, are the goods and bads of Christmas Tunes:

THE BAD

Mannheim Steamroller

As previously mentioned, they need to go away now. As much as I love taking time-honored classics and synthesizing the bejeezus out of them, it's time to call it good. I hope that I never run into a group of half-man, half-musical-instruments-from-Depeche-Mode cyborg Christmas carollers...so, needless to say, I don't particularly enjoy having to hear what they might sound like.

The Trans-Siberian Orchestra

It was good of them to cross Sibera because, God bless 'em, they have evidently filled some horrible niche. They have nobly stepped in to satisfy that group of people who think about Advent and suddenly long for descriptors like "bombastic," "terrifyingly intense," "head-numbingly loud," and "80's hair-band-metal-ish." The first time I heard them I thought Jesus was coming back...then I realized it wasn't Jesus, and was disappointed because I wanted him to deliver me from the music. What is most stupefying to me is that these guys somehow made a version of "What Child Is This?" I'm sorry...but that's a peaceful songs about a peaceful scene. And I can't hear anything by them without picturing in my mind of the "Trans-Siberian" version of the manger scene: Jesus crawling out of the manger, cranking his Fender, slapping on a "Don't Tread On Me" T-Shirt, and rocking the Magi to the point of deafness with a few Quiet Riot covers. Strangely, I just can't find the Peace on Earth-speed-metal parallel. Call me old fashioned.

The Bevy of Pop Christmas Albums

Where does one begin? Christina Aguilera breaking out "Angels We have Heard on High?" Hall and Oates covering "Jingle Bell Rock?" Big Bad Voodoo Daddy anyone? And it gets better. Remember Hanson? How about a Christmas album from them, being the "20th Century Masters" that they are? They have mastered "Little Saint Nick" for you. What's that? You want some Ringo Starr!? 98 Degrees? Or perhaps you prefer to celebrate the birth of our Lord the way they did in the old country...by listening to "White Christmas" as performed by Twisted Sister. I shudder to think of the family that gathers around the tree with the unholy Hall & Oates-Ringo-Twisted Sister 3-disc shuffle going. I can see it now: Daddy trying to grow facial hair and jerry curls while Mommy's trying to pierce the Christams tree with a belly-button ring while screaming "We're Not Gonna Take It!" And poor litle Johnny's not there...he's too busy ruining his brother's completely awesome band with truly pathetic drum solos and sing-songy larks about a colored submersible and underwater horticulture.

The completely terrifying thing is that I spent barely 5 minutes on Amazon and came up with all of these...and there's more, thousands more. I'm half-tempted to look for a Joey Lawrence Christmas album, but I'm pretty sure that if it existed it would turn me into a nihilist.

THE GOOD

The "A Charlie Brown Christmas" Soundtrack featuring the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Two notes of this immediately relaxes me and makes me think, simultaneously, of decorating the Christmas tree with Julie, my childhood, and Linus' telling of the Christmas story. Wonderful, simple stuff. On top of all the memories, the jazz is pretty good too.

Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker Suite"

Another one with memories attached that stretch back to childhood...although I must admit that I have yet to figure out the bad-acid-trip that is the "plot" of the Nutcracker. I know that there is some sort of Rat monarchy, Sugar Plum Fairies, and lots and lots of dancing...but that's about it. But no problem...I just listen to the music and pretend that it's about the Huskers finding the perfect football coach.

"Yule B Swingin'!" by Various Artists

Sounds terrible, I know...but picking up this cheap-o from Target years ago has paid off. Includes "Cool Yule" by Louis Armstrong, Ella's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," and Glenn Miller unloading on "Jingle Bells." It's even got Dino singing about love keeping him warm when we all know that's it's the scotch that's keeping him warm. What better way to celebrate Christmas?

THE BAR-NONE BEST

"The Spirit of Christmas" by Ray Charles

Let's get the hesitations out of the way first. There are only two easily-handled problems. There's one song from the original album that I hesitate on: the sappy "Christmas In My Heart." And then there's the "bonus" track, a rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" tacked on the end. The woman, God bless her, sings the song with a screeching wail that sounds like a cat with severe digestive problems. I usually stop the disc early. Problem solved. Now, all that aside....

There is no doubt in my mind that this is the greatest Christmas CD of all time. I bought it roughly 5 years ago...and it has played, non-stop, every December since. The CD has it all: a slow-groove version of "Little Drummer Boy," the horn-blasting, synchopated versions of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," "Rudolph the Red Nose Raindeer (pronounced Redno'eraindeer)," and the clavinova-tastic "Winter Wonderland." On top of that, you've got the beautiful title song and "Christmas Time" which both talk about the true purpose of Christmas and Advent. Add to all of this the spectacular cover art (pictured above) involving Ray Charles driving a sleigh...and, really, what can you say?

And so, as I write a sermon for Advent, I hope that this season meets you with more signs of the Ray Charles variety (hope, joy, and true meaning) than it does Ringo Starr (mediocrity), Trans-Siberian Orchestra (sound and fury), or 98 Degrees (rapidly-fading commercialism) variety. As for me, I'll probably do what seems best out of all of these options...I'll just sing some carols.

Crash Into Me?

2007-10-25T12:54:00.000-06:00

We have a couple of dogs (Golden Retrievers to be specific) who live next door to us. We have come to love these dogs and they have come to love us...on their end mostly because almost daily one of us walks over to the back fence and gives them each half of a dog biscuit. They are named Crash and Daisy...and they are two completely different animals.

There has never been a more appropriately named dog than Crash. Crash is a tornado of excitement and affection...he zooms all over the yard, barking and jumping, in the hopes of just the least bit of attention. He will come bounding to the fence the minute he sees you, and he'll come for any reason...food or simple interaction. He'll charge right to you...to the point of almost slamming into the fence with excitement. He's always jumping, always barking, always all-out. Always on the lookout for someone to love.

Daisy's older...and acts like it. When she sees you come out of the house, she barks at you with a tone that at first sounds like: "Treat man...I require treats. Now." She doesn't move unless you move towards the treats. When you do bring them to the fence, she comes at her own pace, allows you to pet her, shows some affection back...and walks back.

I remember stopping at some point last fall and thinking: "As a minister, I should try and be like Crash." It made sense...I should always be the first "out at the fence," aggressively welcoming and loving...openly excited and full of energy...conveying, all out, that desire to show love. Daisy seemed distant at times, even a little bit mean.

Then we dog-sat one night, and something interesting happened. We went out to the back yard and Crash ran all over the yard trying to figure out what was going on...he wanted to make sure he wasn't missing anything or anybody. He barked at shadows and ran to the fences...and payed some attention to us, but was distracted. Daisy (now that she knew us) simply sat next to our legs and was perfectly content. She didn't bark or demand treats...she just spent some time enjoying these people she had come to know.

I crossed the back yard this morning with some trash that needed to go behind the garage. The dogs were out. Daisy barked from the back porch, a bark I now translate: "Hey...I'm only coming if you've got something to give." Crash ran, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth repeatedly as I went from house to garage to dumpster to house back to garage before finally appearing with treats. Daisy calmly walked over and joined Crash. Crash was so worked up that he almost choked on the treat...Daisy licked my hand and walked back to the porch.

I was coming off of a vacation this morning...a needed one. It was on the heels of a breakneck two months where I have found myself feeling lonely, tired, and low on energy and initiative. I looked across the fence at one exhausted dog and one quietly resting on the porch and thought: "Maybe she's got something there. Maybe I should try to be them both...a blend of Crash and Daisy."

There's only one problem. That makes me (appropriately enough) Dash...

Or Crazy.

Sheer Terror and Blessed Assurance

2007-09-27T10:33:00.000-06:00

I've heard it compared to the Bubonic Plague...family member passing it to family member, eventually killing the ones you love most. I've heard it compared to sado-masochism...embraced only by those who seek out and even seem to enjoy pain. I've heard it compared to worshipping Satan...a strange and anti-establishment thrill even though you know it's not going to end well at all. I know that these are not positive analogies, but for whatever reason I chose, years ago, to call them my own...that's right...

I'm a Cubs fan. And this is the worst time of year to be a Cub's fan.

It all stared Sunday night. The Cubs were coming off a 8-0 rout of Pittsburgh, the Brewers had lost another tear-your-heart fall apart game to the Braves...and Dusty Baker (He of the 1,286 pitch count who still has Mark Prior's right arm at home on display above his mantle with a plaque reading "I felled him...me and me alone") said out loud for all America to hear: "They're in. They way they're playing, they're in." And as I sat there in bed, the worst thing possible happened: I agreed with him. Before I could catch myself, I agreed with him.

Suddenly, they flashed the stat that no team had ever blown a 3 1/2 game lead with a week to go. The lump started growing in my throat...there are stacks of those stats 10 miles high that now have the suffix "...except the Cubs." The Brewers won on Monday...again on Tuesday. The Cubs were off on Monday, and got crushed by Dontrelle Willis on Tuesday. Both teams lost last night. The Cubs Website today reads: "Cubs desperate to break Marlins' stranglehold." Yeah, that's right...the Marlins (68-90--the equivalent of the 95 pound weakling) have us in a headlock and are giving us a noogie right now.

And so, with 4 games left in the regular season and a 2 game lead, I'm terrified. You see...something strange happened in 1998. Before then, the only team that could get me nervous was the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Now, I was a fan before 1998, but that was the year of the home run chase and (more importantly) the first Cubs playoff appearance of my old-enough-to-understanding. I remember the tension down towards the end of the season...I remember thinking all was lost. Most of all, I remember the spectacular game they played against the Giants in a one-game playoff for the Wild Card in Wrigley. Sure, they got killed in the playoffs...but that game got me hooked.

If 1998 was my introduction, 2003 was my true initiation. I had heard of the terrible plays and the leads blown and all that stuff...but never experienced it. I remember the announcer calling Game 6 saying, "Only 5 more outs...and the way Prior's pitching, I don't think the Marlins can do it." And I thought to myself: "They've got it. We're actually going to the series." Minutes later, Bartman. Chaos. Disappointment. And...for Game 7...anxiety. That strange feeling that there was absolutely no way the Cubs were going to win.

And so, this September, that feeling has come up again. That strange mix of hope and anxiety. But as I think about the facts of baseball (like the once-cursed Red Sox fan base and their morph into demanding, spoiled Yankees who wear different colors) alongside the ins-and-outs of my calling (darkness before I dawn, dependence, and the like)...I can't help but wonder it the wins would mean as much if there were more of them. Sure, it would be nice to make the playoffs 13 years and a row and hire and fire people because you didn't win 100 games...but I look at the Nebraska fan base and then think about all the excitement I felt for that one-game playoff (to simply make the playoffs)...and I think of the smile I'll (God willing) have if they actually pull it off.

But I stop short of the whole "Cubs fan as a mirror of Christian faith" thing. I'll stick with it as entertainment....because, at the end of the day, when I feel this knot in my stomach as I check the scores comimg in and think about the relatively slight disappointment I would feel if the Cubs fail to make the cut...I sit back and am thankful for that unassailable fact:

Steve Bartman or no Steve Bartman...God always wins the pennant.

Green Grass

2007-09-26T10:32:00.001-06:00

Something odd happened to me this past Saturday. I went to a Presbytery meeting at one of the larger churches in our Presbytery, and I found myself having an odd reaction.

I'm a guy who was raised in a small town who loves small churches...it's what I'm used to, feel called to, and love. But Saturday I walked into a larger church (around 1100, mind you...not a megachurch) and saw the beautiful sanctuary with new carpet and spectacular eye-popping banners and paraments. It was set up for the bell choir to perform on Sunday, right next to the guitars and trap set for the contemporary portions of worship. All this was set in front of a massive, beautiful pipe organ. I moved into the Fellowship Hall next, with bulletin boards covering the outside walls...Middle School group, High School Group, College Group, Young Adult Group, Seniors Group, Stephen Ministries, Mexico Mission Trip, Local Missions, Women's Bible Studies, Men's Bible Studies...and a table set up for a renewal/retreat weekend. The sign-up sheet was full. We moved down to the education wing with pictures of the hundreds of children that work their way through the Sunday School rooms on an average Sunday. I soaked it all in, in all of it's impressiveness...and something strange happened: I was jealous.

And I sat there, thinking about everything that's eating at me right now. I thought about our age (both facilities and congregation), our need for youth, our general tiredness, and all the ways that we are limited. I thought about how half-empty the glass was. I thought about the calls for volunteer es that have been met by silence. And I thought about how a large church would solve all of those problems.

I sat looking at one of the bulletin boards when a member of our Presbytery who was the Interim Pastor here, came up behind me and read my mind: "One set of challenges for another, friend...read your Peterson." I knew exactly what she was talking about. And so, this morning, I re-read some of "Under the Unpredictable Plant:"

"A bare 60 or 70 years after Pentecost, we have an account of seven churches that shows about the same quality and holiness and depth of virtue found in any ordinary parish in America today. In 2,000 years we haven't gotten any better. You would think we have, but we haven't. Every time we open up a church door and take a careful, scrutinizing look inside we find them again...sinners. Also Christ. Christ in the preaching, Christ in the sacraments, but embarrassingly mixed into this congregation of sinners."

"It is to be expected in these situations that with some frequency certain pastors will come forward with designs to improve matters. They want to purify the church. They propose to make the church something that will advertise to the world the attractiveness of the kingdom. With a few exceptions these people are, or soon become, heretics, taking on only as much of the gospel as they can manage to apply to the people around them, attempting to construct a version of church that is so well behaved and efficiently organized that there will be no need for God."--pgs. 24 and 25

I remember reading this in seminary and saying "Amen." I remember scoffing at the shallow pastors who skirt challenges as they seek greener pastures. I remember nodding as one of my mentors used to say, "the key is looking for how God is working rather than all the ways we think He's lagging."

I still get it. I still admire it, yes...I still understand and believe it, yes. But I'm discovering that it's a whole heckuva lot easier said than done.

The Adventures of Pastor Wuss

2007-09-11T12:21:00.000-06:00

As already detailed above, I have recently discovered that I have a battle to fight with high cholesterol and high blood pressure. The fight has been going well, running has been upgraded from "Worst Thing On Earth" to "Thing I Would Rather Not Do," and I am learning to live life without the joys of cheese, red meat, and chocolate on a uber-regular basis. Last Thursday was the big day...my blood test. But in order to get a status report from the front, I had to face another bitter enemy:

Getting my blood drawn.

I know. Pathetic. How old are you? The funny thing is that I have gone through about a ten year period of my life when I've been fine with it. I had my blood drawn on a handful of occasions through grad school, seminary, and the like...but for whatever reason this last time (in June) got me. And I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think it had something to do with the fact that I watched the whole thing. By the time it was over I was stumbling around the house like Dean Martin, looking desperately for some juice, and desperately trying to convince the nurse who had come by our home that I was "fine" (Translation: "I am a real man. Put away that skirt and back off.")

This is all to say that I was nervous and psyching myself out last Thursday. The receptionist informed me that I would be meeting with the doctor first and then I would go back to "the lab." So I have a great, though slightly nervous, meeting with the doctor, who congratulates me on having the "fortitude" to stick with running.

Then he calls in the nurse. She, of course, asks the first question: "Are you going to be OK with this? Do you get queasy?" My response: "No...I'm great." (Translation: "I eat meat raw!!!! Give me a steel beam and I'll rip it in half!!!! Give me motor oil, and I'll drink it!!!! GRRRRRRR!") We proceed to walk into "the lab," and the nurse informs me that she's going to use a smaller needle so the prick doesn't hurt as much. "It takes a little longer," she says, "but you'll hardly feel the prick." I'm on board with this...until she breaks out the FIVE vials she needs to fill. Great Caesar's Ghost!!! Why doesn't she just take a finger!?! Sweat starts to appear on my forehead. As she ties the gigantic rubber band around my arm, she asks: "You OK?" My response? A very terse, "Fine. Go." (Translation: "Dear Lord, please let her find a vein.")

It takes her roughly three tries to find the vein, all the while giving me the John Madden play-by-play. I now not only have my eyes closed, but am calling on the name of Jesus. I'm ready. Rapture time. Come on. After what was probably thirty seconds, I get up the nerve to look over: The vial isn't even 1/8th full. Vial number one that is. The nurse senses my panic. "It takes a while, but you didn't feel the prick did you?" Nope, I just heard about it. A few minutes go by and I start to feel woozy. I open my eyes again to find the vial...vial number ONE...at the exact same level. The nurse is tapping the syringe, a perplexed look on her face. She looks at me: "Sometimes it clots. This might take a while. You still good?" My reply: "I'm hanging in there." (Translation: "Are you KIDDING me!!?!?! I don't care about the poke...just get the blood!!! Get a straw and sharpen it for all I care...just get the blood!!! Now!!! You want me to poke myself with a pen? I will!!!" ) The sweat starts coming and the "You Can Do It" posters from Highlights magazine start spinning...so I give in: "I need to stop." (Translation: "I give in!!! Yes, a ten year old girl could be me up!!!! Just, great God in heaven, stop tapping that syringe!!!")

They put the ice pack on my neck and walk me out, holding my arm, back to our room. We pass the doctor, who smiles and says: "Hang in there, pastor." Nice. By the time we get back to the room, the doctor is in there to with a big book of jokes. I soon realize that he's there to distract me. I half expect him to pull out a stuffed lion and wiggle it: "Now show me that smile!" So much for fortitude. He know probably thinks that I run to avoid scary things...you know, like puppies and butterflies and sunshine. The good news is that the process goes quickly and efficiently with the normal needle (humility is evidently an anti-coagulant.) I feel the prick...no, I welcome it. By the time I walk out of the doctor's office, I have two massive cotton balls on each arm, three pats on the back, and a severely bruised ego.

The call came in the next day: my cholesterol is down nearly 15 points. My good is up, my bad is down. But, unfortunately, a couple of the tests came back sketchy...they think that the two gallons of blood were shaken too much in transport: "Is there anyway you can come back in for another sample next week?"

My appointment is for the 14th...my prayers are for a needle the size of toilet paper roll and/or a sudden influx of testosterone before then...or, if at all possible...

Jesus on the 13th.

Flashback

2007-08-21T11:13:00.000-06:00

An entry written yesterday, but held back...and now reconsidered:

One year ago today (August 20), I received a "Rev." in front of my name and was given a call to go out and serve God and God's people with "energy, intelligence, imagination, and love." And as I turned around and faced the congregation, I was dumb struck. With a sea of family and friends in front of me, I was almost paralyzed by the realization that God had used so many people to bring me down that road to ordination...the people who had formed me, taught me, loved me, and made me who I am. And I was paralyzed, too, with the realization of that call in front of me...that I was to be a pastor.

Has it been one year already?

Some days it feels shorter...like the blink of an eye. When it feels like a miracle that all those sermon have somehow managed to come out of me. When I can feel and see myself growing, learning, and giving more up. Days when I thank God for my seminary and for all those people who taught me so much along the way. Days when I feel called, part of family and a tradition, days when I know that this is who I am made to be.

Some days it feels longer. And sometimes, it's a whole week that feels that way. This past week, neck-deep in church decor squabbles, lack of volunteers, a sermon that just won't work, IRS junk, and a whole list of things that need to get done...it feels like work. Like I'm fooling myself. Like the energy, imagination, intelligence and love aren't limitless. There are days when the self-pity kicks in and I feel alone, overworked, and useless. In other words, the last thing I feel is called.

I heard news Sunday of a long time friend of the family, a doctor who was one of my mother's first co-workers, delivered me and my siblings, sang next to me in the church choir for years, continued to write me every week, and was, in general a wonderful mentor and friend. Julie and I made sure to stop and see Doc and his wife every time we were home...to catch up and re-connect. We had a running joke. Nearly every time I would see him growing up, he would try to convince me to go into medicine, usually with something to the effect of: "You need to stop playing around and join the best profession." After my decision to go to seminary, he made that joke less...but we'd still throw it around once and a while.

Sunday I learned that Doc had decided to stop dialysis for his failed kidneys. He had made the decision earlier in the week, so by the time Sunday rolled around, they were worried that his consciousness/faculties would be slipping. If I wanted to talk to him, I needed to do so as soon as possible.

I hesitantly dialed the phone...and, sure enough, got him in the hospital room and he was still aware of what was going on. He asked how church was going, how many we had on Sunday, and how Julie was doing. I asked him if his family was there, if he was in any pain, how long he had been at the hospital. You know, "small talk" when you know you're talking to somebody for the last time. There was a long pause, and then the following exchange:

Me: "Doc, I just want you to know that we love you and are praying for you."
Doc: "Thank you. I want you to know that I'm proud of the work you're doing."
Me: "Well, I'm doing my best for the second-best profession...thanks."
Doc: "No. You are doing what you should be doing...and your'e doing a magnificent job. God is using you. You are doing what you were made to do."

We said good-bye, and that was all.

And so it happened that the Sunday exactly one year after my ordination at nearly the exact time that I stood before friends and family and gave the benediction one year ago...God reached down again. And again, it was through the self-giving love of those who have ministered to me. And again I am paralyzed...that even in the midst of pain and grief, God decided that I was somehow deserving, reached down...

And saw fit to ordain my call once again.

Ranking: The Summer Movies I've Seen

2007-08-07T14:13:00.000-06:00

As some of you may know, I enjoying going to movies...especially in the summer. They've been particularly attractive this summer for several reasons:

1) It's been 90+ here nearly every day since June and we don't have air conditioning.

2) It's always a good day off activity to catch a opening-day matinee and put church stuff into the back of my brain for a while.

3) It's better than sitting around and looking at our yard (now nicknamed "El Scorcho.")

Anyway...Julie and I have made it to 8 movies together this summer and I went to one on my own. While we have enjoyed some independent-type movies, we generally go for the more mainsteam movies and enjoy them just fine, thank you. In other words, I'm not a movie snob (as you're about to see), and I don't pretend to be. But, for what it's worth and for a little debate, here's what I thought. Here's the nine:

9. Spider-Man 3

I had high hopes for this one...which is probably the problem. Julie and I both loved #2, and we thought that character development would continue. Oops. As I watched this movie, I couldn't help but think to myself that it was written with one goal in mind: to sell toys to prepubescent boys. I kept imagining the script writing sessions being peppered with labored 80s interjections: "The Goblin should be on a skateboard! SWEET! No...no...no...a flying skateboard! BOSS! And this dude, this dude totally made of sand could totally start killing this building! GNARLY!" And then, after they all took a break to drink some Kool-Aid, they filled in a "plot."

8. The Simpsons Movie

You can definitely chalk this up to too-high expectations. I haven't watched the show regularly in years now, but I still have a special place in my heart for the show and enjoy watching reruns. After getting a good chuckle out of the commercials (especially the Spider Pig bit), I went in with high hopes. It was fine...nothing terrible. Just not nearly as funny as I thought it was going to be.

7. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Let's just put it this way: When I go to these movies, I feel like I'm in a conversion van in the middle of Manhattan at 5:00...and I'm the only one without the map. I can track with the story somewhat, but my lack of interest in the books has turned my Potter movie-going experience into something akin to reading Shakespeare in French. Added to this confusion is that terrible feeling I get when people gasp and make statements like: "You haven't read any of the Harry Potter books!? But you're an English major!!" as if I've been putting off reading "Crime and Punishment" or kicking puppies.

6. Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End

A good-enough summer blockbuster, but (again) still came up short of expectations. After watching #2 again, Julie and I talked ourselves into the possibility it building to a place where we loved all three as much as the first. While it had some great stuff in it (see: Keith Richards), it was still slow, confusing, and self-important in too many places. All that said, it did contain an unkillable monkey. Big plus.

5. Transformers

Let me just say this first: if this move would have come out when I was in 5th Grade, I would have simply stayed in the theater until they stopped showing it. They couldn't have moved me...not without prying me out of the chair with a crowbar. I really enjoyed going this movie...it helps that I was going into it expecting a disaster with Michael Bay (Armageddon, Con Air) directing. But, really, this is the only kind of movie he should be allowed to direct. It didn't need a plot...all I really wanted to see were large, cool robots going ten rounds and saying things like "One will stand and one will fall." I wanted to relive my childhood. And, what can I say, it delivered.

4. Ratatouille

A good story with some funny moments. It walks the line of boring on occasion, but at least it had some imagination and plot that several of the movies above so desperately lacked. But...and I can't stress this enough...this is summer. So, during the slower parts of this movie, I couldn't help but wish that somebody would blow up half the kitchen or that the rats would get into some sort of Porshe chase. But, I realize this is a Disney flick. It's not like it's....

3. Live Free or Die Hard

I actually saw this one with Julie, and we both liked it. Again, lowered expectations...but it was still a decent time at the movies. We didn't expect a whole lot...I mean, it's a Die Hard movie. Just follow the recipe: two parts snide remarks, one part white tank top, three parts stuff blowin' up, two parts evil villain. Combine, cook for two hours. Hello summer movie.

2. Ocean's 13

I don't know too many people who dislike the first one of these movies...I think I'm one of the few people who actually liked the second. I will agree that this one is much better, though...and nothing better than bringing in Al Pacino just to make sure it rocks.

1. The Borne Ultimatum

Holy smokes. Julie and I saw this one last night and...holy smokes. The best movie I've seen in a while. We saw the first one and liked it. Loved the second one and were amazed that it topped the first one. We went into this one with 9-foot expectations...and were blown away. They further the plot and develop the characters...they even incorporate the last movie seamlessly. And, on top of that, you have Matt Damon doing crazy, crazy, crazy, things. And things blowing up. This is summer, after all.

So there it is. I guess, if you want an executive summary of my movie-going summer, it would be this: lower your expectations, and you might just get out alive.

The Achilles' Heel

2007-07-25T09:12:00.000-06:00

It's been a while now since I got the e-mail, but it still bugs me a bit. There was a parishioner who had gone through an extensive bit of surgery and was recovering well. The Deacons had gone out regularly and she had received a handful of calls, visits, and card from well-wishers. All reports back to the office were that she was in great spirits. Thanks to vacation, continuing education, and plain 'ol prioritization, I hadn't made the effort to go and see her. Admittedly, I should have. Then, one Monday morning, the one-line e-mail with no subject:

"So are you ever going to come visit me?"

Dangit. That bugs me. Bugs me a lot. Still does. And not in the "I'm so angry I could yell at you" way, but in the "Why did you have to go and make me feel like garbage" way. And it bugs me because it works. I got out to see her the next day...she was happy as a clam to see me out there, and now everything is fine. But it still bugs me.

It bugs me because I'm going to spend some time today running up to Lowe's to get come light bulbs because somebody in the congregation has noticed something that I have noticed...that some of the lights have been going out in the sanctuary. They let me know about it every time I see them. And, yes, I know that it's not my job to go buy light bulbs. And, yes, I know that I'm giving him exactly what he wants. But I've reached the end of that line of thought...I have thought that every time he's brought it up, and placed it on the back burner every single time. Today...I'm doing it. Why?

Because of my Chicago-sized Achilles' heel: I'm a people pleaser.

I need people to like me, to like coming to this church, and to like each other. I want people to be happy. And even though I have realized this personality trait, observed it, heard time and again in seminary that it will burn me out, worked as hard as I can to ignore/change it, and have done what I can to undermine it...it's still there. It still bugs me and makes me feel like dirt when I get that e-mail. It still bugs me when I get guilt trips about not doing enough. I still take it personally when the only thing people talk to me about it what's wrong with the church. I still have way too much riding on positive feedback and "warm fuzzies."

And probably the most frustrating thing of all is that I know this...and on my best days I can get over it. But then there's periods of time when I can't help but claim all the guilt and all the responsibility. There are times of extended self-pity/delusion when I feel like there's too much to do, that nobody is happy, that all the programs and sermons and visits aren't "working,"

And it's all because of what I have done or left undone.

Funny how this works...I really had no idea where I was going with this post. But after writing that last sentence, a parishioner came into my office, and we started talking about his son. We talked for an hour. His son, who lives halfway across the country, continues to make bad decisions even to the point of putting his life at risk. As he told me this story, he started to share with me the guilt, the pain, and the responsibility he and his wife feel every time something goes wrong; they go down the, "if we only did this..." road and scrutinize their parenting. And when he was done, he asked me what I thought. I found something flowing out of my mouth, plain as day (something I was once told in relation to myself):

"Would you take credit for it if he was rich and successful right now?"
"No...well, no. Not too much."
"Well then why are you taking all the credit now?"

We talked about loving someone without taking full responsibility for them...and how that becomes harder as the love gets stronger. We talked about praying, stopping, walking away and getting perspective. We talked about getting more sleep, about not letting it be all-consuming; about not spending so much time and energy trying to fix everything.

And I think he left feeling better, knowing that God had moved in our conversation to bring some of that perspective and peace. But what I don't think he knew was that he was being used by God, even in his struggles, to bring that perspective and peace to someone else.

That even when we feel broken and defeated, even when it feels like we're throwing punches at a brick wall...we realize that it all doesn't lie on us, that it is God who is moving...

Even when we know we're the ones who need the help.

Check that, epecially when we're the ones who know we need the help.

WifePod

2007-07-18T12:35:00.000-06:00

It has been a busy week or so with a lot of challenges (I'll post on some of them tomorrow), but there have definitely been some highlights...such as an outstanding wife-of-the-year display of affection and humor from Julie.

I have continued my running routine, and it is getting somewhat better. I am now only cursing/doubting the existence of God about once every jog instead of the one-time standard 10-20 times a block. The joints are still a little creaky, but getting slowly into shape. I am, by no means, a powerhouse (a woman walking a poodle passed me today)...but I am still at it. I get credit for one thing and one thing only: stubbornness. I have also been equally vigilant in my decrying/complaining about running to our old tapes of sentimental favorites. As much as I love "Wonderful Tonight" by Clapton, not much fun to run to.

Well, my spectacular wife decided to make me a running tape while I was away at Session about a week ago...and while she didn't complete the task, what she has put together so far is a masterpiece. Samples from the list:

First Song: Born to Run, Springsteen

She didn't tell me what was coming when she handed me the tape, so I almost collapsed from oxygen loss when I started last Tuesday. Granted, the fact that I currently can't run and laugh at the same time proves that I was, in fact, not Born to Run, but the song still makes me feel like I was. I have decided that if you can't run to this song, you're definitely not trying hard enough. The "1,2,3,4..." followed by musical explosion part is enough to make me run right now...in slacks.

You Can't Always Get What You Want, Rolling Stones

This may seem strange at first...and, yes, it is one of the harder songs to run to on the tape, but it is an inspired choice. I've had red meat, pizza, and cheese once a piece over the past three weeks and had to watch a kid from our youth group eat a slab of deep-fried cheesecake in front of me at IHOP last Saturday. I was about to throw my ordination to the wind, burst out with a Rebel Yell, push him head-first out of the booth, and make a break for the door with the goods before Julie could catch me. Instead, I thought of my ever-hardening arteries, calmly ate my egg-substitute omelet, and cried on the inside. Sing it, Mick.

Gonna Be Some Changes Made, Bruce Hornsby

Many of you all know my affinity for the one-time ringleader of the Range. This song is another excellent "message song" that she put on the tape that makes encouraging/gently nagging me more fun for both of us. Although a closer examination of the lyrics reveals:

"Gonna be some changes, some changes made

Can't keep on doing what I've been doing these days

Better figure out something

Things are looking grave

Gonna be some changes, changes, changes made"

Grave? Grave? I know I've let myself go a little soft, but geeze. It's just a little cholesterol.

Vertigo, U2

Another inspired full-throttle choice. Good beat, good rhythm, and excellently appropriate lyrics. The song (from what I have been able to deduce) is about a person who feels out of control but eventually realizes that God is in control. The most appropriate lyric in the whole song is the final one: "Your love is teaching me how/How to kneel." A song about relying on God in the face of realizing how limited you are? Could there be anything more perfect?

And, finally, the Piece De Resistance:

War (What is it good for?), Edwin Starr

I can't tell you how much I love this song. I've belted it out at college, screamed it on baseball trips, and grunted along in my car an infinite number of times. While I definitely approved of it's addition, I found myself getting more and more passionate as I chanted along to the lyrics (slightly modified) as I ran:

Running! Hugh! Yea-a-h! What is it good for?

Absolutely nothing! Uh-huh!
Running! Hugh! Yeah! What is it good for?

Absolutely nothing! Say it again y’all!

Running! I despise,

Cause' it means destruction,

Of the muscles in my thighs!

War means tears in thousands to my eyes,

As my lungs go out to fight and lose their lives.

I said...Running! Hugh! Good God y’all!

What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Say it again!

Running! Whoa-whoa-whoa, Lord...

What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Listen to me…

Running! It ain’t nothing but a shin-breaker!

Running! Friend only to the shoemaker!

Running! It’s an enemy to all mankind,

The thought of running blows my mind,
Running has caused unrest in the middle-aged generation,

Induction then destruction-Who wants to ache?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Running!

And...you get the point. I hit this song in the homestretch, and I swear I was up to about 1/98th of a mile an hour singing along, growling quietly to myself.

Anyway...with our 5th anniversary coming up this Friday, I just wanted to pass along one of the many excellent, humorous, and life-improving things that Jules does for me...and also give you a brief public service announcement: That (in spite of my original theories) good music, while helpful and wonderful and workout-improving, doesn't make the side cramps stop.

Maybe I need some new shoes. Yeah, that'll do it.

Hello Old "Friend"

2007-07-02T08:31:00.000-06:00

I am back in the office this morning...and it feels like an "Ultra-Monday." There is the usual backlog of mail and messages from the weekend, but there are also messages and duties from the entire previous week...a week of vacation that I wish had never ended. But more than anything, I'm feeling it this morning because I had an early morning meeting with someone I have let slip out of my life:

Fitness.

Fitness and I were inseparable in High School. I used to run cross country and train for it...spending evenings out running. I played my share of pickup basketball games, ran track, even golfed without a cart on hot days. Now, granted, the relationship slipped a bit when I went off the college...but I still checked in regularly with pickup games of ultimate frisbee, football, and basketball. But then grad school came...and suddenly I noticed that Fitness and I were having an extremely hard time finding things that we liked to do together. It soon reached the equivalent of rolling over in bed, looking Fitness in the eye, and sobbing quietly, "I don't even know who you are anymore." Our once wonderfully mutual relationship had turned completely one-sided. All I did was give...all Fitness did was take. She nagged, she made me feel guilty, and then, when I gave in, she made me feel old, fat, and tired. Pretty soon, we weren't on speaking terms. And that has pretty much been the status quo ever since. Sure, I lifted some weights in seminary (which, it ends up, was like putting a little more cargo on the Titanic) and have dabbled in running over the past few years...all to no avail. I have longed for those glory days of fun-loving, attractive Fitness...but instead have found a stable of dependable, enjoyable friends in Apathy, Lethargy, and Procrastination.

Now...let's get something straight here...I think that I'm in decent shape. Mostly thanks to Julie, I'm not the average-American who's borderline-cardiac-arrest. I eat well and am relatively healthy. But the recent health test I did for health insurance revealed that I have borderline high cholesterol...which, when teamed with my borderline high blood pressure, means that I probably need to do something I've been avoiding for a while; reconciliation with Fitness.

One of my problems is that I've done the elliptical trainer some over the past few years and I think that my body has learned to "fool" it. I usually "run" on it for about 20-30 minutes while watching a James Bond movie, and when I get done I feel slightly sore but not really all that drained or tired. It's as if my body says, "There, see! You're in shape! Now never do that again." This morning I tried to rekindle my love affair with Fitness through our old favorite: running. I thought that pulling out the walkman and going back to my roots might bring back all those good memories. So I pulled out of bed early and hit the streets this morning...and, boy, let me tell you:

Fitness has let herself go. There is nothing even remotely attractive about her...in fact, these past few years have made her bitter and vindictive. I'm convinced that she hates me. First, she shook loose years of God-only-knows-what in my lungs, causing me to cough like a chain smoker for most of the morning so far (I swear there were some bats nesting down there or something). Second, even after trying to let her know I was coming back by stretching before and after, she took a billy club to my left knee just to remind me that it's been years since I have called, then added double side cramps to really bring home the message. Third, for a "soundtrack," she made sure that he only tapes we still have are old mix tapes I made Julie back in the day that have more songs of the "slow, lovey, mellow" variety than the "fast, motivating, exciting" variety on them...so I was panting and heaving to the soothing sounds of Tom Petty's "Wildflowers" and Neil Young's "Silver and Gold." So it not only looked like a wake and felt like a wake...it sounded like one, too.

Those who run fairly often speak of something called "runner's high," a feeling you get when you're done running that is akin, somehow, to the euphoric feeling you get when you do drugs. Well, this morning was bad acid. They also say that your body sends you messages that you need to listen to when you work out, mine was saying something like: "What the heck is thiiiiiiiiiiiiis!!!???" But, valiantly or stupidly ignoring those messages, I pressed on. When all was said and done, I stumbled into the front yard heaving, wheezing, and listening to the soothing tones of "Blue in Green" by Miles Davis. I was oh-so-close to just lying down in the sprinkler and asking Jesus to take me.

But I guess it is that yellow yard that brought me a small slice of solace this morning. Our yard, once spectacularly green, has recently been upgraded to "extra crispy." But Julie and I have been working at it, dragging hoses and watering more frequently. The lawn seemed resistant at first, screaming "You talkin' to me!!!?" by stubbornly staying pale yellow. But slowly, and surely, the lawn has greened up. It still looks absolutely terrible in places...there is still a lot of work to go...but it's getting there. I just keep thinking about how much easier it will be to maintain rather than catch up. I keep thinking about how much better the house will look. I just need to keep thinking about the benefits of the work I'm putting in...rather than what a pain it is to drag those hoses. I guess you could say that I just have just got to keep at it. And then stay at it.

And so I am "watering the lawn" of personal fitness. And, yeah, it's been a while. And even though I don't think I'm burnt yellow yet...it still feels like I have a long way to go. But even though I know that, even though I preached yesterday on the cost of being who God makes to be...I still sat out back, sucking air to the point that I nearly inhaled our neighbor's dog...

And prayed for underground sprinklers.

On Bob Barker

2007-06-18T15:28:00.000-06:00

I was half-awake on Friday morning. After spending the week at my New Pastors' Group (and staying up late every night), I was beat. I dragged myself out of bed and upstairs to work on my barely-started sermon...a sermon that I was intending to be on the subject of embracing change...but I was in no mood to write. As she left for work, Julie reminded me of something that had slipped my mind: "Today's Bob Barker's last show...you should watch it." I said good-bye, gave her a hug, and said thank you. She was out the door...and I was alone.

Sure enough, I "wrote" until 10:00 and made my way downstairs. I hadn't watched The Price is Right in probably 5 years...but I wanted to watch television history. I plopped myself down on the sofa and turned the television to channel 4...and was greeted by that same old music, those same crazy graphics, and that same old Bob Barker. And, along with them, something totally unexpected...

A surprising amount of emotion.

For the first 10-15 years of my life, when people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say (without hesitation): "A game show host." And The Price Is Right, as everybody knows, is the king of all game shows. I would watch it any chance I could get and then quickly run upstairs to try to recreate the games using playing cards on our sofa. Part of the benefit of missing school on a sick day or snow day? I got to see The Price is Right. I was a fan. And that has continued, to slightly lesser degrees, even since. I remember watching The Price is Right in the Union at college and getting oh-so-close to going to it live for my bachelor party (Bob was having surgery at the time). I've always loved it...

And as I watched on Friday I realized that a big reason it still makes me feel good is that it hasn't changed. They played the game with the car and the seven one dollar bills on Friday, and Plinko, and they spun the big wheel...all games I tried to recreate when I was still learning to write cursive letters. The music, the games, and the host...fun, inviting, and unchanging for over 30 years...for my entire life.

About an hour after the show was over, I got a call. A 90-plus-year-old parishioner was in the hospital. I went to visit and ended up spending most of the afternoon with her as she was moved from room to room awaiting her diagnosis. When we finally "landed," she made a comment: "Don't ever, ever grow old. Everything changes all around you...and all you can remember is what was. And there are times when all you can manage to do is just miss things that have gone away."

I've been preaching a lot about change over the past few weeks...trying to bring home to the congregation that change is both exciting and terrifying, but that God is always in the middle of it, working to stretch us into new, more Christ-like people. Change and new life go hand-in-hand. What I am realizing is that I think I have it better than most. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. My hometown hasn't become a ghost town or a suburb. My friends and the majority of my family are still healthy and in touch. But there are still those times that it slaps this naive small-town boy in the face...that things change, even the things I love.

And so God told me something on Friday through, of all people, Bob Barker: As the things around us change, we cling to those things that somehow have held on...and then we mourn them all the more when they finally do give in.

The question is if we will look beyond what have lost to see what God is giving us here and now. And while that may be easy for a relatively young man like myself; the tally of what has been lost is much longer for many of us...and it becomes more and more challenging by the day to get beyond the mourning.

I woke up Saturday morning without a sermon. I leafed through those I wrote in seminary and decided to recycle one on Caleb and Joshua reassuring the Israelites that even though it seems impossible, God will take care of them as they enter the Promised Land. And I realized that it was a sermon that I need to hear, too:

That even though I'm getting older, even though I miss so much, even though the world is constantly changing...

The promises do not.

Red Tape, No Scissors

2007-06-06T10:37:00.000-06:00

Today represents a first for me. This is the first day that I have wanted to shut everything off, scream, and go home. There are three major items that I have been working on today:

1) Making my opting out of Social Security official
2) Making the changes to my Terms of Call because of said opting out official with the national office
3) Trying to get the Nominating Committee put together so that we can fill two sudden vacancies on our Session.

I have been here at work for a little over three hours...and I'm just about ready to either cry or take a baseball bat to something. Knowing my nature, it would probably be the former...but if I get put on hold again, it's going to be the latter. Here's what I've been up to this morning:

I received a phone call yesterday from a man named Jeff who works for the IRS. He informed me that they have received my paperwork, but it is incomplete. I had evidently misread the completely convoluted and confusing letter and the person I did talk to about it gave me the wrong advice (I believe it was, "Just sign the thing and send it in...you don't need anything else.") Jeff, in a spectacularly IRS-perfect nasally-robotic tone, informed me that I would need to supply him with copies of a couple of forms that would prove the tax-exempt, non-profit status of the church. He fired the alphabet soup of form numbers at me...and I waited until today to check the files. I can't find any of them...the Treasurer doesn't know where they are, the chair of Finance doesn't know where they are...and I'm tearing through the church files like a man possessed. You want copies of the minutes from the June 1945 meeting of Presbyterian Women? We got that...can put my finger on it in three minutes. The forms granting us non-profit status in the eyes of the US Government? Not so much. After a little over 45 minutes of ravenous searching, I gave up and realized that said document would have probably had to have been procured in the late 1800s for this church. I called Jeff. Hold. Two minutes go by. I hang up.

I exhale...calmly exhale...and move on to the next order of business. I start to fill out a form of "change of call" from our beloved Board of Pensions. I don't understand a couple of things on it at all. I place a call to the home office in Louisville. Hold. A minute goes by. I hang up.

And so I move to the project I have been dreading the most. We have had one elder move and another resign because of health concerns over the past month. The one elder happens to be taking an at-large member of our nominating committee with her (her husband). My mission was to find out what stipulations there are in the church by-laws for appointing new members of nominating committee and to see what hurdles there were that we needed to clear before we could convene as a nominating committee. There are none...none written at least. My calls produce three nobody-at-homes, two I-have-no-ideas, and a twisted web of positions that have yet to be filled from the various organizations of the church. This is all simply to put the nominating committee together...we haven't even started asking for elders yet. That process last fall, in and of itself, was like trying to find someone on the Rockies who can pitch in the 8th. And so, after about a half hour of calls, I hit another brick wall.

I try Jeff again. Out to lunch. He must be recharging his batteries. Call back tomorrow. I call our clergy tax advisor. He won't be in until Friday, and doesn't answer questions over the phone. I need to make an appointment on my day off to come in to ask him, "What forms do I need?" A parishioner walks in to ask me about to forms you need to fill out for camp scholarships...it takes me a little over eight minutes on the presbytery's convoluted website to find the forms.

And so that's my morning: a black hole of productivity where any project I begin is met with a wall of red tape and Don Henley hold music. As I go out to make an adjustment of the church sign, I half-expect a police officer to roll up and ask me, "Do you have a 606R Religious Display Authorization Form for that?" and then sing me "End of the Innocence" as I try to ask him questions.

I didn't sign up for this. I hate this. This is what I was trying to avoid...the forms, the desk work, the administrative red tape. It just makes my blood boil. I stare at my desk: the church by-laws, the book of order, tax forms, and Board of Pension documents are thrown haphazardly across the surface. And I stew...and I get angry.

But then I choose to write. And while I didn't know where I was going when I started this post, I realize something as I write. This is the first day in nearly 9 months that I have felt this way. When I worked at my former jobs (particularly in secondary education), I could have written a post like this every day. I hated it, and hated my job as a result. Here...I've had one bad morning of bureaucracy in, what, 9 months? Wow. I guess that I've avoided it for so long that I've lost my ability to tolerate it.

And so I will now shut the computer off and stop calling the Jeff-O-Tron 5000. I will go down and have lunch with a fellow minister. I will walk away. I will realize that those questions will eventually be answered. And, more than anything, I will realize that red tape and bureaucracy are not the norm in small church ministry. And I will thank God for that.

Getting "Tagged": Random Stuff About Me

2007-06-01T12:50:00.000-06:00

I recently received the web equivalent of a chain letter...a.k.a. I was "tagged" to share 8 things about myself on this blog. I have hemmed and hawed about whether to actually do it or not...and I have decided to participate without passing said "tag" on to 8 people (per the instructions). This gives me a nice halfway point. I am, in fact, recognizing and responding to the wishes of a friend while at the same time avoiding burdening 8 of my friends to do the same. So, without further ado, the "tag" disclaimer (the rules):

1) I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2) Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3) People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4) At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5) Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
6) Don't tell anyone about Fight Club.

I added that last one myself. Anyway...here are the 8 random topics and some even more random comments on them.

Food: When it all shakes out, give me pizza. Sure, I like other food. I like to cook, love eating Julie's food, love eating out. But at the end of the day, there is nothing better than something that is delivered to your house, is covered in cheese, requires no utensils, and often has absolutely no nutritional value. Make it a deep dish Chicago-style pizza from Giordano's and, hey, I'm in heaven. Runner up: The Johnny Cash Ring-Of-Fire Burger at a local eatery. Buffalo sauce, jalapenos, and blue cheese on a 1/3 pound burger. Appropriately named because it is the gastrointestinal equivalent of doing a concert at Folsom prison: risky, but worth it. Walk the line, baby...walk the line.

Family: Yes, I have one. I love them all very much. Dad, Mom, my two sisters and their families, and (of course) the woman who keeps me afloat, Julie. I'm also quite fond of my extended family on both sides and have had some really great times with my aunts, uncles, cousins, and the like. I fancy myself a pretty good Son-In-Law, too...I like spending time with Julie's folks and all her New Zealand extended family. And I would be remiss, of course, unless I mentioned Shadow, our beloved dog who is now climbing fences in the great beyond (and hopefully getting walked more than once a month.)

Exercise: Yeah. I get on the elliptical trainer (a.k.a. "The Suicide Machine") every once and while, but I am afraid that I'm one of those strange people who doesn't like discomfort. I'm still looking for a way to make staying in shape fun again. I used to play pick-up basketball, football, and ultimate Frisbee in college. The only way I can play those now are in Rec Leagues filled with people who take it considerably more seriously than I do. I'm going to try running again here soon. Stop laughing. Don't make me come over there.

Profession: I am the King of the Diamond! Oh...wait...I get it. Presbyterian Pastor.

Obsession: Probably high on this list would be the James Bond movies, along with my life-long vision of designing, financing, and the building a corkscrew-shaped building. You think I'm kidding, don't you? Oh, and one other thing. Every time this clip comes on TV, I must stop and watch:

There is amusing, there is very funny...and then there is "Kneel Before Zod!"

Faith: See: Profession. I try to do the best that I can to love the Lord, my God, with all my heart, mind, soul, and strength and my neighbor as myself...and I try to make sure that everyone knows that I am broken...but healed every day in God through Christ.

Ailments: For all the exercising I do, you'd think there would be quite a few, but other than male-pattern-hair-recession, a still-growing mid-section, and a strange friend nicknamed "Hambone," well...I'm doin' OK.

Games: I love to play games with family and friends. I've already mentioned my affinity of sports, but I also love board games. Whether it be dominoes with Mom and Dad, Cranium with the larger family, Settlers of Catan with Julie, Texas Hold-'Em with friends, Rail Baron, Pinochle, Pitch, Hearts, 500, or PS2 on my own...I like a good game. A handful of game moments stick out in my mind, though (along with code names):
--Two-on-two basketball outside in the middle of winter (The "Frozen Tundra" series)
--Playing basketball in the old Heartwell gym (The night of the "Dog Pound")
--Playing pitch all the way home from skiing ("Paycheck")
--Playing Tecmo Bowl on Campbell 2nd North (The quest for the Neirmann Memorial Trophy)
--Bowling on East Campus (No ball over 4 pounds please)
--Cranium with my family (The "It's A Small Nose, After All" incident)
--Going all-in blind when a certain line was uttered (see: above) while playing Hold 'Em (The "Zod Hand")
--Playing multi-tap video games in seminary ("Day-lo")

Good times...every last one of them.

Well, there it is. I'm not passing this on, but I hope you've learned a little something about me. Something, that is, other than the fact that I'm a cop-out artist.

Ranking Things: Cars, Good and Evil

2007-05-23T08:54:00.001-06:00

As mentioned in the previous post, Julie and I made a never-before-done-as-a-couple major purchase a couple of weeks ago: we purchased a car...rather, a vehicle. I hesitate to call it a "car" because it is a (gulp) SUV. Granted, it is a Honda CRV (a parishioner called it a Half-UV the other day)...but it is still (as the Rev. Dr. reminded me) something that I gave him an exceedingly hard time about buying nary a year ago. I, of course, blasted him with the "Soccer Mom" and "Kiss Your Manhood Goodbye" comments...never knowing that I was predestined to move into a glass house in mid-2007.

You see, out here in Colorado we have a little thing called "snow," and this past winter we had a whole heckuva lot of it. Needless to say, the 1997 Honda Accord and the 1997 Toyota Tercel, while formidable in their own ways (well...no...that's a lie), are not what you would consider "rugged" or even "snow-functional beyond 5 inches." Changes needed to be made...and so we looked into something with 4-wheel drive, that could fit more than 2 people, and didn't drive or use gas like like a front-end loader. Enter the 2002 Honda CRV (As pictured above, only dark blue).

I'll be the first to admit that I'm now well through my dinner-sized helping of crow. We really like the car; it handles well, gets decent mileage, and is comfortable. But as we prepare to put our two-door Tercel up on Craig's list, I can't help but sigh a bit that we're selling our dependable, gas-sipping, bandbox of a car for a Yuppie Chariot. And so, as an attempt to justify myself, I give you two short lists:

Top 5 Cars That Would Destroy My Soul/Will To Live

5. The Urban Pickup
One of my new favorites here in Colorado. We have a guy on our street with a Chevy that could flatten our house...dual "Dooley" back tires on the back, massive clearance, dual exhaust, and a cab that must require a smaller car to get up into. I would place it's origin somewhere in the late 90's...and there's not a scratch on the thing. It is always perfectly washed, even has mud flaps for that oh-so-muddy trip over to Hays Market. Meanwhile, the real farmers and ranchers around here are trying to find two pennies to rub together as they struggle to keep the 1984 Silverado going.

4. The PT Cruiser
Let's call it what it is: A minivan rolled in a mid-life crisis that is really nothing but a hatchback with bad aerodynamics. In other words, the new Gremlin.

3. The Minivan
I know, I know...I have a friend who just bought one, other friends who have owned them forever...and, yes, I know, they have V-8s with some pick-up. Yes, I know that some of them have DVD players. Yes, I am quite aware that they are exceedingly functional for large families. But the fact remains: It's a minivan. You don't get to watch the DVDs as you drive....and, at the end of the day, V8 or not, you are driving a small bus.

2. The "Extended" SUV
I get the logic here. I don't want to be un-cool in a minivan, so I'll buy a 4-wheel drive minivan. The problem is that these things are high-clearance, barely-converted tractor trailers that crush anything in their path. When I'm driving around in the Tercel, and I see a Yukon or Expedition merging without looking, I see my life flash before my eyes. These things are impossibly huge...and getting larger. Plus, after looking at some mileage reports while Julie and I were looking for a car, well, geeze. Instead of a little "Unleaded Fuel Only" sticker on the gauge, they should have a government warning label that reads: "You...yeah, I'm talkin' to you...you are why we are dependent on foreign oil. Thanks for that."

1. The Hummer
The unholy spawn of all of the above. Take three parts "status-mobile," four parts "I'm a real man...really," two parts "I want to run over anything that gets in my way," nine parts "hey, it's not a minivan," two parts "gas is like my line of credit, right...it won't ever run out," and there you have it. The ultimate driving machine.

So what, you might ask, would I get if my family rendered the CRV insufficient? Two words: Station. Wagon. Yeah, you heard me. Let me throw another couple at you: Wood. Panelling. There is a family in our church with three kids that has a Chevy Caprice Classic wagon with wood panelling...it even has the extra backwards-facing seat for extra family bonding/nausea. Spectacular.

Now...so not to end on an overly-critical note:

The 4 Greatest Cars I Have "Owned" or Driven Extensively

4. The Red 1997 Honda Accord (a.k.a. "The Old Kentucky Shark")
Still in active service, this car is most notable for it's Cal Ripken like ability to keep going out there every day. Has weathered five-plus moves, a handful of baseball trips, daily commutes in KC and here in CO, and me nearly ripping the front bumper off on a parking island. Is starting to show some signs of old age (it "wheezes" if you idle with the AC on), but is still punching the clock every day.

3. The mid-to-late 80's White Pontiac Bonneville (a.k.a. "The White Beast")
A warrior-poet of a car. Passed down from my sister, the Bonneville initially functioned as one of the first cars I drove after getting my license and later served a tour of duty as my school car. I never had a problem with it (which, for a Pontiac, is nothing less than an act of God). The car served our family well...and was given away at or near 200,000 miles (again...divine intervention for a Pontiac). It continued to drive, somewhere down in Louisiana, for a while. I like to imagine that it is still going...pushing 500,000 miles...saving orphaned children as it drove through the eye of Katrina and pulling "one-armed-Jessies" into the new millennium. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if it is.

2. The Gray 1989 Oldsmobile '98 Touring Sedan (a.k.a. "The Enterprise")
My first car. An unfittingly posh automobile for a Sophomore in college, the Olds featured leather seats, cigarette lighters for every passenger, a strange/cool center shifter, and an iron will. It was an "old-man car" forced into the role of college car. The Olds made it through three unobservant backing incidents, multiple brake reconstructions, and once drove from Kansas to Nebraska with a massive deer-inflicted dent down its left side, inspiring awe from all who drove by. An excellent road-trip car with a primo engine...I drove it hard, and died hard. It met its end, suddenly and violently, via a timing chain in a Target parking lot in Olathe.

1. The Blue Pickup
Recently promoted to "Iconic" in my mind's eye. The seminal mowing vehicle of our family's vast yard maintenance empire. A manual-transmission, wood-bed, rust-damaged, powerhouse of a truck that provided years of enjoyment, even in the midst of work. Once took a full-on blow from a Chevy Citation without giving an inch. Powerful engine was more than able to throw Marcy out the back while she was dumping grass. Whether completely covered in Little Debbie wrappers or destroying the Andersons' mailbox thanks to over-zealous ice-driving, the Blue Truck took on all comers. "What you did was so amazing," indeed. Dad sold the Blue Truck for a runner-up on this list (The Brown Chevy Scottsdale), but it will never be replaced.

And so I place the CRV somewhere between these two lists...a needed compromise that sticks my toe into the chilly waters of the yuppie/grown-up pool. I'm optimistic, though, because above all else what makes a car great are the stories...and I know there are more of those to come.

Divine Timing

2007-05-21T13:17:00.000-06:00

Well, now that was something. I have had a whirlwind two weeks here that have consisted of the following (not necessarily in this order):

A long-time member of the church passed away (funeral on Wednesday).
I was asked to preach for the Presbytery (Saturday).
I am the "leader" of a Family Camp this weekend at our Presbytery's camp.
Julie and I purchased a new (to us) car.
My parents (and two nephews) visited.
It was my lovely wife's birthday.

That, friends, makes for one whale of a fortnight. In the midst of all of this, I had probably the most difficult day, emotionally, of my life as a pastor so far. Wednesday's memorial service was emotional for me (I am starting to realize that these get harder the more I actually know those involved), and so I arrived at home exhausted around 4:30. The phone rang. It was a woman who needed help...and lots of it. Through a terrifying set of circumstances stemming from cancer, she has been left without work, income, physical strength, or hope. I drove over to her home.

I walked in the door to find the accoutrements of faith all over the walls, the dresser. Crosses, books, Bibles, frames of her family saying "God loves you...and so do I" around them. But she sat at the table...crying. I asked, "What's wrong?" It took an hour and half to answer. I sat there as she cried and cried and cried...stories of weeks spent looking for work, stories of family apathy, stories of being turned away time and time and time again. It just poured out of her. I sat, mortified...no idea what to say. She finished by asking, full of hurt, "Why does God hate me so much? Am I being punished?"

I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to run and hide because, ultimately, I couldn't blame her. I have those same questions about why she is suffering. I wanted to know why, too. We sat for what seemed like a long time in silence. Then I muttered something like:

"You are not alone. You are loved. By God. By me. By the church. We care about what happens to you. See, we get together...in all our fear and hurt and doubt...because we know we can't do it on our own. We need God...and we need each other.”

Then I showed her Isaiah 40 and Ezekiel 37, explained their contexts a little bit, and drove home...feeling shaken and completely inadequate. Wondering how much of my faith is contingent on my car, my nice house, my health, and my all-in-all favorable circumstances. I didn't sleep well...so I rolled into the office early, anxious about my impending sermon for a house full of preachers.

But I sat in my chair...tired, sad...and didn't feel much like a preacher.

On that morning and the next morning, two things rolled in through the mail. The first was a simple, wonderful, completely pointless card from a good seminary friend that caused a long, hard chuckle and a good dose of therapy along with it. The next day, as I pondered my Wednesday encounter and I tore my hair out trying to compose an IMPRESSIVE sermon...the following bit of prophetic intervention showed up via another wonderful friend:

Spectacular. And with these two seemingly random, silly gestures I was, at once, reminded of two wonderful truths:

That God still wants me, not some super-pastor. God, even with all my scars and limitations and hurts...even in my "Scottness," can share the hope and love of Christ in and through me.

And that it is community, even across thousands of miles, that best demonstrates that love and gives us hope, encouragement, and perspective when we need it most.

The Glass Half Empty

2007-05-04T16:45:00.000-06:00

Julie and I were at home watching the news the other night, when back-to-back new pieces nearly blew my mind.

The first, titled something like "The Consumer Pinch" had the usual news lead-in: "Americans work hard to get by every day...well, now there's a growing concern that hits home in a way that reaches each one of us..." Cut to a story about rising milk and grocery prices. They lead with the statistics first...how milk has gone up nearly twenty cents a gallon, with other staples following the lead. Groceries on the whole are up. They interview a couple of store goers who are concerned about the high cost of milk. Now they cut to the chase. The culprit? Rising corn prices brought on by the production of Ethanol. The report then draws on a talking head from Iowa State University who gives the "doomsday" prediction that corn prices are going nowhere but up as Ethanol production increases. The reporter, chagrined by this information, makes a standard final comment bemoaning that there "is little relief in sight from the American consumer."

The next story? America's crisis of high gas prices. Now, I don't know if some terribly ironic genius put them back-to-back to make a point or if it simply went over their heads. It was your trademark run-of-the-mill "Why are gas prices going up?" story where the reporter interviews the lady who is "suffering" by spending $125 to fill her TankUV so that she can drive it, by herself, to work in Orange County. This particular report did actually touch on the whole supply-and-demand logic that I haven't seen much (the prices are going up because we will pay them)...but the majority of the report was spent simply bemoaning high fuel prices with no mention of carpooling, bicycling, walking, or simply buying a vehicle that won't be confused with an aircraft carrier.

It blew me away. The first report, through a simple change in sequence and narration, could have been an exciting report on the increase of Ethanol production and consumption in the United States. You could absolutely include the hard fact that yes, groceries will go up as corn goes up, but what about the benefits? If you asked everybody outside of the supermarket to give thirty cents to help farmers and reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, I bet they'd be all over it. But here, instead, we get Ethanol as the enemy. It's taking money out of your pocket, America! And then, to top it all off, a report detailing the astounding amount of gasoline this country alone burns through in a day. In the past few days, I've heard more reporting on this "grocery crisis," and few take them time to mention the benefits of Ethanol.

You can probably tell by now that I'm not the biggest fan of the mainstream news media...but it's becoming something more than their truly amazing ability to make decent human beings want to kill each other by polarizing them politically. The more I watch, the more I am discovering that whatever they do...be it telling you how "liberal" or "conservative" their untrustworthy counterparts are, be it sending Matt Laurer to third world countries to show us how cute poor people are, be it Bill O'Reilly milking human tragedy to look more noble...it's all about selling you Pledge, the new Dodge Stratus, and a crate of Lunchables. It's all about the money. And they're not dumb...they know that the way to get us to watch is to appeal to what we want...that very same money. And so stories don't focus on increasing Ethanol production or how to change our habits when it comes to consumption...they focus on the regrettable, but relatively minor side-effect of rising grocery costs and the long, slow whine of a rigidly gas-addicted culture as they fill up their Hummers.

And so I'm taking a media break. I'm tired of TV and radio news. I'm tired of hearing about how Liberals/Conservatives want to eat your children and destroy the world. I'm tired of problems without solutions. I'm tired of all the crises. I'm tired of all the blame. Most of all, as I learned the other night, I'm tired (and discouraged) by the fact that this is, ultimately, what we evidently want. Myopic, self-centered, blame-passing news about the one place and the one thing any of us seem to care about:

Our checkbooks.

Music In the Pastor's Study: A Theological Conundrum

2007-04-30T14:03:00.000-06:00

Ever since my high school days, when I would thrown on a pair of headphones as I scrawled away on my Algebra, I have enjoyed listening to music as I work. This habit continued through all of my schooling...I would often place a handful of CDs and my headphones in my bag on my way up the library to type seminary papers. I find that it helps me think to have something in the background. If the deadline is approaching, it is nice to have some more mellow, relaxing music in the background (nothing better than "Kind of Blue" to convince you that 20 pages can, in fact, happen in the next 12 hours)...if motivation is a problem, a more upbeat selection often helps (My last Hebrew paper was made possible by an energy infusion via Led Zeppelin III). I still enjoy listening to music when I am at home writing my sermons...those old habits continuing on today. I like God...I like writing...I like my job...and I like music.

But a question has presented itself recently, one that I have visited before at the other churches I have worked at: What can you listen to at church? What is considered appropriate?

I currently have a small CD player here in the office, and I keep four CDs here at work permanently. They are: "The best of Pavarotti," "Tchaikovsky: Greatest Hits," "Copland: Greatest Hits," and "Debussy: Compositions For Piano." In other words, four classical CDs that I enjoy very much and help soothe/inspire as I write. They aren't the greatest in the world, grant you, but I like them. There is only one catch.

I've been listening to them for eight months straight now.

Sure, I've brought in other classical CDs from our collection at home, but these are "The Rotation." The administrative assistant likes them...I like them...and (above all else) they haven't raised any congregational eyebrows. I keep looking at Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charles Mingus, and Duke Ellington...and I can't help thinking in the back of my head: "Boy...Miles Davis did a whole whole whole whole whole whole whole lot of drugs. Wonder if I should take him to church."

Why don't I do this with other CDs? Surely somebody in the orchestra playing "Fanfare for the Common Man" had some problems...plus, have your read any biographies on composers? And it's not like Miles' CDs are titled "Drugs are Great!!" and "The Church is Dead!" It's flowing, beautiful, instrumental jazz. Spectacular stuff. But I still haven't brought it.

And this doesn't even crack my CDs that have lyrics. There are several CDs that I would listen to (and have listened to) in front of parishioners...but I still don't bring them to work. I brought the new Bruce Hornsby/Ricky Skaggs bluegrass album to work the other week...I kept muting it when I answered the phone because I thought it sounded too upbeat and raucous for church work. It's not like there's language or even a whiff of a suggestive theme on the album...I just feel like this place is a serious place, you know, where GOD'S WORK gets done. Don't want anybody thinking I'm having a party here. Is there something wrong with me? I've considered bringing Ray Charles, Van Morrison, Neil Young, Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, and the like into church...but always stopped short. Would people really get all that mad if they heard "Georgia On My Mind" playing when they came in the office?

Maybe it's precedence. Every pastor I have ever worked with who has listened to music in his/her office (that I know about) has listened to one of two things: Gospel music/hymns or Public Radio. I like both of these things...I really do...but I guess I just find myself wanting something else when I work.

And so...these are the things that crawl into my mind and don't leave. I have things to do, plan, and write...but instead I am trying to analyze my inability to bring jazz or vocal music to the church office and what that tells me about my theology of the pastoral office. I have come to the following conclusion: I have a hard time imagining all the pastoral expectations that I have clogged in my brain (those short films: "Pastor prays for 6 hours straight" and "Pastor debates taking a nap, curses sloth, gets back to work") played to a soundtrack of "The Boss Brass: Live in Digital" or Tom Petty's "Highway Companion"...it just doesn't work.

I'm guess that I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it means to be a pastor...how much I have to listen to those expectations and how much I need to back off from them before expectations overshadow the reality of who I am. It is, in a way, like the times I feel guilty when somebody finds out that I'm a pastor when I'm walking around town without two-day stubble and an old ball cap on a Saturday. I want to be the pastor...but I want to be Scott, too.

I guess I'm still trying to figure out what I need to embrace and change in order to be both.

Reality Baseball is For Suckers

2007-04-26T08:57:00.000-06:00

A completely unsurprising news story come across my computer this morning. Mark Prior, the one-time savior of my beloved Chicago Cubs is out for the year. Again.

This is no surprise to anybody who follows the Cubs (or baseball). Ever since the magical/utterly soul crushing 2003 playoffs, Prior has been MLB's version of Mr. Glass, sneezing and breaking his collarbone every couple of months. The promise of young Mr. Prior has "forced" the Cubs to repeatedly pay him too much. And now that he is damaged goods, his price tag (along with that 5-star attitude) make him impossible to move.

This is, of course, verse two of the same song. He joins another savior-turned-overpaid-one-armed-man Kerry Wood. Cubs fans had been playing the, "If we get them both healthy, we'll be spectacular" game for about three years as we bemoan the absence of milk from the Cubs training table and the ongoing legacy of Dusty "Pitch 'Em 'Till They Break" Baker. There was always that glimmer of hope...maybe they'd get better.

Well, that's over now. There were still a couple of us naively hanging on. It's over. There is nothing left but to watch the injury/recovery cycle like a replay of a train wreck. Nothing to do but embrace the fact that they are impossible to trade and weigh down the payroll and roster like cement shoes. The Cubs are 8-13 and looking completely inept in a division where the Brewers are in first. Yeah, you heard me. The Brewers.

Combine this morning's same old same old with the Royals (7-14, last place) and the Rockies (9-13, last place) and..well...this has been a hard Spring to be a baseball fan.

In the real world, that is.

This has been a spectacular Spring for the last bastion of the Cubs fan, the magical world of pretend. My fantasy baseball team currently resides in first and the (previously mentioned) "Virtual Cubs" have 53 wins and it isn't even July in "Bizzaro World" yet. Mark Prior was traded to the Mariners for Ichiro (suckers!). Kerry Wood was packaged with Michael Barrett and Jacque Jones and promptly exchanged for Bartolo Colon and Francisco Rodriguez of the Angels (chumps!). Ted Lilly's got a 1.57 ERA, leads the league in strikeouts, and is the current favorite for the Cy Young. Alfonso Soriano has 98 RBI in late June.

And so it has been one lights-out Spring in the land of denial. PS2 has been my techno-fiddle as the baseball world burns around me...and left me wondering what other ways I could supplement reality.

I searched the Best Buy website this morning. Unfortunately my searches for "Church Administrator 2007: Attack of the Budget!!!" and "Extreme Yard Care: Dandelion Avenger" came up empty. A guy can hope, though. A guy can hope.

Tragic Ownership

2007-04-18T09:05:00.000-06:00

One more brief post on Virginia Tech. My friend and fellow blogger rightly (I think) indicated that one of the developing goals of media is to "involve the participants in the events and the reporting"...to include us in what is happening. I think this explains my (and, from what I understand, most of the nation's) television vigil after September 11. This was a shared experience...although I do think, as I indicated yesterday, that it reached kind of a morbid fascination level for me. I don't want to call it an "excitement"...but there was something about watching "history unfold" (something I was reminded of repeatedly by the broadcasters) that kept me glued. I have a problem with this.

Maybe if they stopped running commercials, I'd have an easier time. Maybe if they stopped repeating over and over and over how monumentally terrible all of this is as if we didn't know already. It seems like re-hashing to me (insert comment about the irony of me re-hashing the situation here). Repeating, over and over and over again, the terrible stories and the tragic images.

The worst example of this: local news. In their desperate attempt to connect the story to "the Metro area," they have combed the phone books looking for relatives and friends to get their tales of woe and hurt. They have presented stories about how easy it would be for somebody to go on a rampage at CU and CSU. And they have (most unnerving of all) gone to visit the victims and eyewitnesses of the Columbine shooting to get their feelings and to "see if it has brought up any bad memories." Then they go back to the news desk, the head anchor shakes his/her head and says something to the effect of: "We will never forget that terrible day." You're right...because you won't let us.

So I guess I've put a finger on why I feel dirty watching the news right now. The news currently presents two things: blame and re-hash. And that's because it is exactly what we want. We want to see the footage, we want to "be there," we want to get that visceral rush of experiencing something monumental. We want to be impacted. But (and here's the rub), we really don't want it to compel us to change. We want to stay in front of the TV...and, if it gives us somebody or something to blame, all the better. We don't want to consider how we can work to prevent something like this from happening in our community...we don't want to reach out to others. We want to see something historic and how it impacts us.

And, unfortunately, I think that's the chief end of the media and our chief end when we watch it...to impact and be impacted. Unless it is done away from the TV, there isn't any real healing, there isn't any grieving, there isn't any semblance of moving on and learning from tragedy. It's all about the "experience." About something unforgettable that we all "own" a part of...even if that something is a deep and terrible wound that we refuse to let heal.

The Center of Attention

2007-04-17T09:56:00.000-06:00

Word of the terrible Virginia Tech shooting sifted down to me through various sources throughout the day yesterday. I watched a little bit of the national news last night...enough to know what happened and feel enough sorrow to know that I couldn't watch any more. We have recently switched to basic cable, and I returned home from work wanting to "check-in" on CNN. I can honestly say that it was about the only time I have ever missed a 24-hour news network.

I turned on the Today show this morning in the middle of a monologue by Meredith Veira. She talked about how she had felt a little strange and guilty (at first) about broadcasting from the campus of Virginia Tech this morning. She had gotten over it, she revealed, when they had arrived to discover hordes of students, family, and local residents there to greet them expressing gratitude for their arrival...saying that it felt better knowing that the nation cared, that NBC cared enough to transport the whole crew down, that "this story was going to be heard." Press row has, evidently, become a place where some have come to heal. This news crew, this press row, Meredith explained, showed that the country is with these people in spirit, in thoughts and prayers. Then they cut to a Swiffer commercial.

I've been thinking (as I think we all have) about the "Why" of this. It has led me to look at how I reacted to receiving the news yesterday. I felt a desire to pray, yes...but what I really, really wanted to do was watch the news. Why? Are we at the point where we need Chris Matthews and Wolf Blitzer to walk us through the valley of the shadow of death? I remembered September 11th...how I spent nearly three straight days watching the TV...watching the pictures, the grief, until I had to go an a TV fast before getting so depressed that I couldn't move...and then, eventually, coming out of my stupor long enough to pray to God to help me understand.

I remembered a discussion we has in my Postmodern/Modern Literature class in 2000. We were talking about Postmodern "shock literature," and it led to a discussion of Columbine. My professor talked about the drawbacks of the fall of modernity and the rise of postmodernity (a process he was strongly in favor of). He talked about the terribly reality that seemed to play out in Columbine: When a person focused on self-development and self-realization comes to the conclusion that there is no way out, they will do desperate and terrible things to regain control and/or recognition. In other words, the goal of a truly self-motivated person is to "be somebody." To get affirmation, esteem, respect, and love. In the context of modern media (particularly in America), this gets translated into notoriety, recognition and (if at all possible) fame. We want our 15 minutes, to be a household name, to be the center of attention. He argued that when somebody completely focused on self realizes that there is no hope for legacy or fame, the most desperate and disconnected of them will settle on infamy. They will show everybody who said they would never amount to anything. They will show that ex-girlfriend. They will go down in history. They will "be somebody."

How do we get to this point? How do we become so self-centered that we resort to these acts of desperation? And, most importantly, where is the church in all of this?

I'm not the guy who blames everything on the media. And I'm not going to sit here and write about all the things people do these days to get on TV. What I am going to write about is that I find it disturbing that I sought comfort in cable news yesterday. That I find it unnerving that people see video cameras and media coverage, there basically to make a buck, as a sign of hope and care. I am overwhelmed and humbled by the realization that my thoughts went immediately to how I would be changed, my desire to be "impacted" by the news...with prayer left as an afterthought.

I am shaken by the basic realization that there are individuals out there so broken, so desperate, so disconnected from community and true purpose, that they will do terrible things to be the center of attention.

But most disturbing of all is the terrible feeling I get that there are plenty of us, from networks to morbid onlookers, who are more than willing to give them exactly what they wanted.

My Internal Life: A Short Play

2007-04-12T08:38:00.000-06:00

Setting: Home at three in the afternoon April 11, 2007

Our main character "Scott" has just arrived at home after a day at work. Because he went in to work at 8:00, he has arrived home at 3:30 with a chunk of free time. Scott is accompanied by PastorScott, who is dressed in slacks and a collared shirt. They walk in the door to find LethargicScott, dressed in an old tattered shirt and pajama pants, sitting on the couch with a bag of tortilla chips in his lap.

LethargicScott: Hey! You're finally home! Let's watch last night's American Idol!!!
Scott: Yeah, nice try...you're gonna have to work harder than that.
PastorScott: Hey...I have an idea for Sunday's sermon...
LethargicScott: Back off!!! You had him for Easter!! He's mine now! James Bond is calling, my friend!
Scott: Now you're talking. (To PastorScott) Catch you later.

HomeOwnerScott enters from the back door wearing a tattered Cubs hat.

HomeOwnerScott: What a day! Let's mow the yard!
Scott: I notice you're still walking with a limp...
ALL: Frickin' snow.
LethargicScott: Which reminds me...why would you want to mow today? It's beautiful outside, and it's supposed to snow 9 inches tomorrow!! Seize the day!
Scott: By doing what?
LethargicScott: Watching a movie here on the couch! We could open the window!

PostmodernScott enters wearing something that isn't terribly functional, but is extremely comfortable.

PostmodernScott: You need to follow your joy. What would make you happy right now?
Scott: Well...I'd sure like to get that yard mowed...I don't feel like doing it, but afterward...
PostmodernScott: No, no, no...silly boy. Not later. Not after (gasp) effort. NOW. What feels good...now?
Scott: Where did you come from, anyway?
PostmodernScott: You're a human being between the ages of 15 and 35 who has had access to media his entire life. I'm automatically installed. Don't make me call SarcasmScott.
HomeOwnerScott: I hate to bring up the yard again...
LethargicScott: Shut it!!! Man...where's RenterScott? That guy was the best.

Enter StayInShapeScott wearing shirts, shoes, and a ballcap from the mid-90s.

StayInShapeScott: Hey...you haven't been on the treadmill in a couple of weeks...
All Others: Not you again.
LethargicScott: Didn't we kill you about 10 years back? Remember...it was self-preservation. You tried to take us running, and you darn near killed us all...
PostmodernScott: Not fun.
Scott: Yeah, Tim called 911 because he thought I had accidentally drunk some Drain-o...
PastorScott: Yeah...we killed you. Right then and there. Swore you off for life.
StayInShapeScott: Julie knows CPR.
All others: Dangit.

LethargicScott: Well, I do know one thing. We haven't watched "Casino Royale" in nearly two weeks now.
Scott: He does have a point...
HomeOwnerScott: Come on...if you don't mow today, it's going to be taller than the house.
LethargicScott: As long as it's less than 9 inches, you're golden.
HomeOwnerScott: It looks terrible.
PastorScott: I dropped my keys in it the other day, and it took me five hours to find them...
HomeOwnerScott: Come on, it's a nice day!
PostmodernScott: Outside of you feeling good, nature is really one of the only things that I am strongly in favor of...so I'm in.
StayInShapeScott: I guess it would qualify as some sort of exercise...sort of.
PastorScott: And hey...I could think about the long-term vision of the church while I...
All others: SHUT UP!!!!
HomeOwnerScott: You like mowing. Mowing's in your blood, man. Your father passed it on to you...it is part of you. Mowing is your destiny...
LethargicScott: Sounds like Darth Vader...
Scott: OK. It's settled...I'll mow the yard and try not to think about church while I do it.
PastorScott: I'll be back.

Everyone leaves except for LethargicScott...Scott starts to leave, then sticks his head back through the door.

Scott: PlayStation later?
LethargicScott: Cubs all the way, baby!!!

END

Ranking: Major League Baseball Teams

2007-04-04T11:13:00.000-06:00

I can't put into words how much I love this time of year. Opening day and the first week of the season when my beloved Chicago Cubs are always still in contention. What I realized once again this past Monday is that while I am a fan of most sports, and an avid fan of College Football in particular...baseball holds a special place for me. Where do I stand on the other teams you might ask? Well, I started to rank them all...but there's a big, squishy, middle where it all kinds of blends together. If the Diamondback play the Indians...well, frankly, I don't really care who wins. And, honestly, I can't think of much of anybody who would.

And so I decided to present the rankings of my five favorite and my five least favorite baseball teams (thus covering both the heinously evil and the pure and righteous) for your perusal and for my own clarification. These rankings are always subject to change...for example, a sudden injury/proof the obvious removing Barry Bonds from the Giants would elevate them into the top 5. But...as of today, right now...here are my big 10. Let's start with the nasties:

1) The New York Yankees. The great baseball Satan. Buy whoever they need to win championships and then consistently keep themselves rich and and top by railroad attempts at revenue sharing to make the league more competitive. Roster includes primadonna/crybaby/man-who-makes-more-money-than-God Alex Rodriguez and a handful of other players (Carl Pavano, Jason Giambi) who turned their backs on home teams to get more money. I can't imagine cheering for them...it would be like cheering for the ebola virus.

2) The Boston Red Sox. Quickly catching (in some ways surpassing) the Yankees in all the ways listed above. After winning the whole thing a few years back and breaking their curse, baseball fans have been subjected to endless waves of propaganda about how earth-shattering the Red Sox winning it all was to the point of nausea. They won because they now do everything the Yankees do. Cheering for them would be like cheering for poverty.

3) The Chicago White Sox. The year the Sox won it all, I was in Chicago during the playoffs. I wore my Cubs hat. I kept getting comments, including a guy at a sandwich shop after taking my order: "That'll be $6.95...and you need to root for a real team." Wait a second...you want money now, from me? Anyway...you get the point. They have a racist, short-fused, if-you-don't-play-well-I'll-scream-at-you-until-you-do manager who constantly makes fun of or berates his own players to the press. And, above all else, their ballpark (appropriately called "The Cell") looks and feels like something built in East Germany...and is about as inviting. I visited there once wearing a Royals hat and jersey (asking for it...I'll admit)...I walked by a ten-year old boy who looked at me and dropped the F-word. And, no, I don't mean "friendly." Yeah. Nice.

4a) The Houston Astros. I know, as a Cubs fan I'm supposed to dislike the Cards more. But this is just over whelming math: Division rival+Texas+Roger Clemens+Stealing Carlos Beltran from the Royals+Texas+Texas+TEXAS=Team I really don't like very much. At all.

4b) The St. Louis Cardinals. Consistently better than the Cubs because they do a better job of maintaining their farm system and are smarter with their contracts. But do we really need to hear the "best fans in baseball" speech again? How hard is it to cheer for a consistent winner? Give me Devil Ray fans any day. I've thought LaRussa was overrated ever since the A's lost to the Reds in 1990...and the whole organization pretending Big Mac didn't do 'roids is getting laughable. And, reason number one they are this low...Card fans genuinely, passionately hate Cub fans. It really scares me sometimes. Hey, we never hurt anybody. Just show us your rings...we'll shut up. So, out of fear, they're this high.

5) The San Francisco Giants. I used to love them. My aunt is from SF, my wife used to live there...and I used to like watching Will Clark, Kevin Mitchell and the gang. I've been to and love their park. One big...sorry, huge problem. Barry Bonds. Julie bought me a Giants hat back in the day...I'm waiting for the day Bonds retires so that I can wear it out in public again. It sits, in mint condition, in my closet...waiting for that day. Hopefully my head won't grow as much as Barry's has over the next few years...oh, wait, it won't. Because I'm not pumping my body full of horse steriods and killing the whole sport of baseball.

Honorable Mention) The Cincinnati Reds. Ongoing nemesis of the Cubs and former home of Gamblin' Petey Rose and Racial Slurrin' Margey Schott. Their new ballpark looks like the unholy spawn of a dilapidated steamboat and a bauxite mine.

And now to take a deep breath and think happy thoughts. The good ones:

1) The Chicago Cubs. What's not to love about a perennial loser that, by its very existence, celebrates the glories of afternoon baseball because they were too cheap to get lights for so long?The older-than-dirt-stadium. The older-than-dirt curse. Half-drunk announcers. Andre Dawson. Ernie Banks. Rod Beck. Ryno. That strange cocktail of total depravity and hope. Comedy, tragedy, and possibility all rolled into one...this, friends, is the great comic opera of our time. It's like a 100 year episode of "Days of our Lives." Call me sado-masochistic, but they are my guys.

2) The Kansas City Royals. The team of my father and the team of my childhood. I still get goosebumps every time I go to Kaufmann Stadium...it was the first place I watched a ballgame. I went through a Royals renaissance when I lived in KC and had many, many good times at the ballpark with friends. When it come down to the baseball aspects of it...well, I cheer for them for the exact same reasons I cheer against the Yankees. Small market, baby...I root for David, not Goliath.

3) The Colorado Rockies. I don't know what we would have done if we had moved to St. Louis. It is great to be in Colorado...they have a good small market team and one whale of a cool ballpark. Throw in the fact that you always get your money's worth (usually at least a run per dollar) at the park...and bingo! Nothing better than cheering for the home team.

4) The Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Why? Well, frankly, because if seminary taught me one thing it is that we must look out for the last, the lost, and the least. These guys are all three. These poor guys play in a barely-converted barn of a stadium, play in the division with the most disposable income, and were given the worst name/ugliest uniforms in sports albatross from their inception. Is this a pity vote? You bet it is...somebody's got to cheer for them. Let's put it this way, if baseball would have existed in Biblical Israel, I think Jesus would have worn a Rays hat. They need him the most.

5) Tough call here...I'm going to have to go with Milwaukee Brewers simply because I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever been to a ballyard as crazy as Miller Park. I swear they have a three drink minimum. On each one of the five to seven times I have visited, I have returned with one whale of a story to tell. I really can't think of any other place with that kind of batting average this side of Heartwell, Nebraska. Add in the sausage race and the venomously guarded secret stadium sauce and, well, there you have it. The happiest/most disturbing place on earth. Go Brewers (or, as the locals call them after a few...the Brrruuuhhhhs.)

There you have it...my allegiances as they stand at the moment. Of course, of these teams listed above, well, you know who's going to make the playoffs this year. Most projections have every single one of the teams under the "dislike" heading making it. Yeah. But there's still hope...and that, my friends, is what Spring is all about.

For and Against

2007-03-29T11:16:00.000-06:00

We got a newsletter at the church on Monday. It talked about "the true meaning of Lent" as a time "of repentance...a time to see the evils of the world for what they are," and to re-dedicate ourselves to combating or avoiding them. The author then, handily enough, went on to list what/who several of those evils are and ended the e-mail with a paragraph about not being "of the flesh" in a world falling deeper into "spiritual decay" every day.

This brings back memories for me. One of the three preachers at the church I attended in Grad School was a man I nicknamed "Mr. Brimstone." Every time he preached he would paint vivid pictures of the evils present in the world...in culture, in government, in the seemingly harmless people that we walk by every day...and hell was never too far in the background, the heat not-so-subtly turned up as he talked about these evils lurking in the world. He would talk about the decline of the world around us, talk about the truth present "in these walls that is ignored, even hated by the world," and would (quite effectively) bring home that message that the Christian life was a battle; a constant, bloody struggle between God and secular belief and culture. I would leave his sermons with an odd mix of emotions. Sometimes there was some conviction, other times understanding...but there was always (above everything else) a whole lot of fear, and often times some anger against the world around me. I remember telling one of my friends one Sunday, as we left, "Well, now I have laundry lists of what God hates, what God is against...I think I'm ready to hear about what God is for."

What I'm realizing, the more I preach, is that I'm not that guy. Maybe it's naivety, maybe it's a reaction to Mr. Brimstone, maybe it's just brutally ignorant optimism...but I'm the guy who tries to preach about what God is for. I read the Bible and ask, "What does God want me to be, to do? How is God working in the world around me?" I don't think this is a bad thing...but I am wondering if this exempts me from effectively preaching Lent. I have done a sermon series on love for Lent...and I have tried to make it not just about some dumb puppy-dog "I get what I want" love, but a love that challenges us to change and see how love involves repentance, humility, and the like. I have tried to be convicting...I have tried to present the truth that the Gospel calls us to change dramatically and passionately.

But, if truly preaching Lent involves that next step... I just can't do it. I've heard too many people spend hours upon hours, sermons upon sermons, delineating all the dangers, toils, and snares that wait outside the church. I've heard too many people overplay the "battle" angle, making it seem like the world has spun out of God's control, now a cesspool full of dirty sin and dirtier sinners. I've spent too much time looking for the enemy in the culture, the government, in the people I meet. I think I've spent too much time thinking about what/who God hates instead of how God is working in the world and us to bring change.

And so that has been my approach to Lent. God has already moved, in Christ, to win the day. How can we, as the people of God, focus on the things Christ calls us to live out? How can we put aside selfish motivations and sin? How can we become who we are called to be? How can we focus on this merciful self-giving God in Christ...and not ourselves? Lent, as I guess I am approachign it, is less about feeling guilt or shame about doing what God is "against," less about advertising the evils of the world...but rather getting over our hesitations and fears to answer the challenge and see how God is bringing light and life into the world. To see how we are called to show the light that is greater than those sins. To see how we can be more Christ-like.

A time less to see the evils of the world for what they truly are...and more to see Christ for who he truly is.

Ranking: Today's Top Ten Junk E-Mails

2007-03-21T10:19:00.000-06:00

Junk mail continues to amaze me. There is, evidently, a great deal of money to be made on people like me (Not to mention the church...the amount of junk mail we get for the church reaches paralyzing levels over any given weekend). And there are, evidently, people who actually buy products and/or services based on web solicitation. This stupefies me. Who reads the "ONE TIME OFFER--FREE CHEESEBURGERS FOR YOUR LIFETIME!!!" e-mail and thinks, "Hey, this is for real! I'm going to check this out. In our society people hand things out for free all the time...I'm sure there are absolutely no strings attached here. Mmmm...I can taste those cheeseburgers now."

Anyway...to salute these fine, probably enjoyably naive folk, I give you today's greatest hits (listed by sender and tag line).

10) "Trade-in your car for a NEW ONE" from "What's Your Car Worth"
This e-mail was completely blank. What's up with that? Where's my new car!!? No indication of how one might get a hold of Duane or Carla What's Your Car Worth or their children, Bobby ("Scooter") What's You Car Worth, Jenny What's Your Car Worth, or little Duane What's Your Car Worth, III. Plus, don't get me started on capitalizing for emphasis...I HATE that.

9) "Cynical Democrats" from Mike Duncan, RNC Chairman
First of all, this includes my favorite junk mail glitch. For some reason, most of the junk mail I get on my hotmail account is addressed to "Sandra." And so, Mr. Duncan's very personal e-mail to me, a "concerned, patriotic citizen," hasn't even pieced together that I am a male. Well...you gotta figure if they haven't figured out that I'm a registered Independent either, well, then they need to get a new junk mail list from hotmail. This also illustrates the benefit of being an Independent...I get snide, snippy, self-righteous e-mails from both parties. The gist of this one is that if I should vote Democrat and/or support my Democratic representatives, then I am a anti-American, terrorist-loving, troop-hating, child-eating, Osama-kissing, Christ-betraying, government-destroying "Liberal who's trying to slow-bleed our troops." Now I'm confused. Another e-mail I got yesterday said that the Republicans hate our troops, America, apple pie, my dog, the elderly, and Almighty God. I'm confused.

Wait...did that sound cynical? Crud. Maybe I do hate America.

8)"Put-An-End-To-Those-Collection-Calls" from Loweryourdebt
Can the people who keep calling me to collect then tell me how to get you to stop e-mailing me? Seems fair to me.

7) "12 Cases of Pepsi or Diet" from Free-Soda
Now this is one I might click on...if it weren't for that darn hanging "Diet." Diet what? Pepsi, I'm assuming...but it could be anything. Diet Squirt (yikes!), Diet Fresca (yow!), my father's drink of choice--Diet Rite Zero (also known as seltzer water with brown food color). Or, worse yet, even though Mr. Fernando Free-Soda's name would indicate the genre of the giveaway, it could be Diet anything...Diet Miracle Whip (not a miracle...a curse), Diet Velveeta (removing the one thing it brings to the table...fat), or possibly even Diet Peanut Butter (an abomination unto the Lord). Yeah, seems like a Pandora's Box to me. Thanks but no thanks.

6) "Own a Home at Deep Discount" from Foreclosure Listings
Yeah, sorry. Got a home already (see: Put-an-end-to-those-collection-calls), plus don't know that you'd want to throw the words "foreclosure" and "deep discount" together if you're trying to hook me. As much as I love the idea of, at best, kicking somebody out on the street and, at worst, owning my very own meth house...I think I'll pass.

5) "Inc. 500 Company Seeks Managers" from Work at Home
This one isn't too big a stretch: "We here at IBM really need some managers...I've got it! Mass e-mail!" I didn't read this one, but if there was any truth to it, it probably went something like this: "Yes, an Inc. 500 company is seeking managers...but that has nothing to do with our jobs!!! Got you!!! If you're this gullible, you're going to have a hard time finding a job...we're here to help!"

4) "Roundtrip Airline Tickets On Us" from Airline Association
I thought that this might initially be penance for past sins (here and an earlier Christmas nightmare), but no such luck. I'm a little hesitant of this "AA," although my recent travels have had me looking for a 12 step program for recovery.

3) "FREE ebay home business kit" from Success on Ebay
Wait, if I can be a manager for a Inc. 500 company at home...why in the world do I need this? Oh yeah...I'm going to need the extra cash to help defend myself in all the lawsuits and broken windows I'm sure to suffer for being a communist, Uncle Sam hating, Nazi-hugging cynic.

2) "Gifts for your Best Friend" from PETCO offer
You know...as much as Julie likes to chew on things, I don't think that the whole rubber newspaper is going to go over well for a birthday gift. And, as for my other friends...I guess I could see a couple of them needing a grooming brush...although there might be a few takers on the teeth-cleaning bones.

1) "All Expense Paid Trip to See Dr. Phil in Holywood" from Talkshow Trip
I'm genuinely shocked. There are expenses involved in seeing Dr. Phil? People actually pay to attend a taping of this show? And, for that matter, why do they want me? Are they doing a show on Cuba-loving, dog-kicking, mother-disgracing, capitalism-destroying louts like me? And, if so...I'm covered. My manager job with Microsoft (not to mention the Ebay on the side) means that I can handle the cost. And, on top of that, the free tickets (not to mention all the Pepsi I can drink) are in the mail. So don't worry, Phil...you can count on good 'ol Sandra to be out there soon. As soon as I get off the phone with those debt collectors.

Delayed Madness

2007-03-20T12:10:00.000-06:00

Long time, no post. Sorry for the delay. This recent hiatus in blogging has been due to a combination of things, not the least of which was my annual pilgrimage to watch the first weekend of the NCAA basketball tournament with two of my closest friends from high school. I had an excellent time. We watched the games, made snide remarks about the commercials and commentators, made lasagna-turkey-and Frito sandwiches (I'm not kidding here), and even enjoyed watching the newly-released "Casino Royale" together (which is, incidentally, moving up my list every single viewing...it's a solid #2 now). As those of you who watched the tournament this past weekend already know, there was really only one problem:

Thursday and Friday's games were mind-bendingly predictable and dull.

There's a reason we gather (along with half the nation) every March: we want to see crazy things happen. We want to see Valparaiso nail a crazy three. We want to see Santa Clara beat Arizona. We want to see George Mason go to the Final Four. This year? Nothing. I'd have settled for a favorite sinking a buzzer beater (eventually got that wish on Saturday). But all day Thursday and all day Friday, the most interesting thing on our television was Greg Gumble's ever-expanding girth.

Late Friday, I found myself leaning over to one my friends (our host had already gone to sleep out of sheer boredom) and said, "This is March Sanity. March Logic. No Madness here. I want some madness...and I want it now."

Be careful what you wish for.

I hitched a ride to Omaha Saturday afternoon and was scheduled to leave Omaha on a plane that would get me in to Denver at an early enough time to get me home at a decent hour. Spend some time with Julie, look over the sermon, all is well.

Well...all was not well. My flight, the last one out that night to Denver, was cancelled. I was placed on the 6:40 (central time) flight out in the morning and given an all-to-brief-thanks-to-a-5:30-wake-up stay at the Hilton. My saint of a wife picked me up at the airport at 7:30 (mountain), and I groggily made may we through Sunday worship before practically falling asleep standing up at lunch.

And so...I was still groggy and a bit put out when I came in yesterday. Holy Week is coming...and the list of things to do is long. I got in to work a little early, and started to make my way through the stacks. Then the church got a call. A 40-year old woman who has had 8 heart attacks caused by a tumor wrapped around her heart (and who, consequently, can't hold a job) needed money for rent. Another call. A 19-year old man with two kids needed gas to get to his new job up in Fort Collins. I spent the majority of my morning lining up help, referring, calling agencies and Deacons, doing what I could to help. Julie called right around 10:30 and I muttered to her, "I'm not getting anything done."

When the smoke cleared around 1:30...I sat in my office and looked at what I was supposed to do around 9:00 that morning. I thought about Holy Week. I thought about what I had said to Julie earlier. I thought about my sermon for this Sunday...that talks about God's love changing our life and especially our "to-do" lists. And I remembered the stinging punchline of a story a pastor once told me about a Sunday when he went into the pulpit with a terrible sermon because he had spent the whole morning praying with one of the youth. He caught himself saying: "If I didn't have to help anybody else, I'd sure get a whole lot more work done."

So I learned another lesson of Lent. The lesson of stopping and seeing (and then doing) what is truly valuable. Of looking beyond my plans to what needs to get done. Of finding the divine method, even in our madness.

In Defense of Yellow Grass

2007-03-08T10:41:00.000-07:00

It dawned on me as I walked out of our back door today that I've been looking forward to this day for quite some time. No, there really isn't anything all that special about March 8th, 2007 (other than the fact that we are doing our taxes today...please pray...hard), but it is a day that I have been asking God for.

This is the day that the snow has finally melted. Sure, there are some stubborn, nasty-looking spots hanging on...but that massive drift out our back door now stands at about an inch. And it doesn't look well...this weekend's predicted balminess will probably prove too much for it, leaving our yard (for the first time since before Christmas) snow free. Oh, how I prayed for this. In a short blog entry I wrote for my UDTS friends (titled "Let It Stop, Let It Stop, Let It Stop"), I referred to my white, fluffy nemesis as "the unholy, unrelenting, back-devouring, soul-sucking snow." Yeah. That sums up my feelings about it on January 10 pretty well. After weekend after weekend of snow...I just wanted to fast forward to Spring.

Well...today as I came to work, I looked around my yard.

And I want the snow back.

The lawns and streets around here look like some post-apocalyptic wasteland. The streets have hundreds of what could best described as "Crater-lets" (I swear I've seen magma come out of one of them) that turn a trip down main street into a 6.0 on the Richter scale. The melted snow has also uncovered many priceless gems long hidden from sight. Signs that were inadvertently destroyed by snowplows have been exposed, along with that omnipresent mixture that can only be classified as "The Filth." In the yards, parking lots, and the sides of the streets...anywhere where there was once a large pile of snow, there is now a pile of mud that bears the "treasures" buried beneath: pieces of asphalt, plastic bottles, exhaust-stained papers, gravel, and other muck. And "The Filth" (especially next to the bare trees and dead grass) gives a brown, lunar feel to the yards and streets. And I thought the snow was bad. And so I stood in my filthy back yard for a moment this morning and realized that the grass was not greener. It was, in fact, yellow.

I have found myself longing for Dubuque lately...missing my friends and the community that Julie and I loved so much there at seminary. But time and time again God reminds me of how I felt my first months of seminary (not to mention my first months at my new job, at Grad School, and at College). On the cusp of each new thing...on the cusp of what I would come to love and call home and an essential part of my life...I wished that could skip it. I wished that I could just fast forward or (better yet) rewind. Now, at times, I find myself wanting to rewind to then.

As I made my way through my incredibly filthy back yard to the garage, I passed the flower bed. There, slightly enough that it is impossible to catch if you don't stop, the tulips are coming up. Green is re-introducing itself to our backyard an inch at a time.

Thank God for slow, steady growth.
Thank God for the sustaining relationships and memories of seasons past.
Most of all, thank God for the signs always around us of Springs to come.

Waking the Deadbolt

2007-03-05T13:44:00.000-07:00

Desperate times call for desperate measures...and those desperate measures can sometimes make you all the more desperate (or, perhaps, simply a bit anxious).

After spending the lion's share of last week up in the mountains on continuing education, I found myself back at home on Friday with a morning completely devoted to errands. As I prepared to leave the house, I went through the checklist: "Coupon for haircut, check. Deposit slip for bank, check. Note I need to drop off at church, check. CDs to listen to in the car, check, and so on and so on. As I was organizing myself and all of these things, I reflexively slipped the doorknob over to lock and close the door. It was only when I got to my car that I realized that my keys had been left inside.

Now...I don't know if I'm the only one who does this or not, but when faced with a situation like this, I usually go through three stages:
1) Realization. I quickly do the math and realize how dumb I really am. In this case, I realize that Julie is in Fort Collins, my cell phone is in with my keys, and the spare we have been keeping at somebody else's house is inside thanks to the last time I locked my keys in the house (Yes, this was instance #2. Shut up.). I soon realized that I really didn't have any options, and that my morning (if not my entire day) was about to be filled with long walks and/or bugging people to use their phones.
2) Self-Chastising. Faced with the reality of my own short sightedness, I usually replace normal breathing with a quiet, personal monologue. This past Friday it was, "I'm so stupid, I'm so stupid, I'm so stupid..." as I desperately walked around the yard and garage. Why was I walking around the yard and garage? Well, because of...
3) Dumb Idea Mode. In situations like these, I am so desperate to save my day and/or calling Julie to inconvenience/admit my stupidity to her, I usually consider a whole host of completely stupid, illogical ideas before I do anything that makes sense. Friday, this meant that after I found out that the neighbors weren't home (thus eliminating the "Call the Locksmith--Pretend Nothing Happened" contingency), I combed all through the garage, "just in case Julie or I had dropped a spare key at some time." I followed that winner up with the "maybe Julie put a spare under our doormats and didn't tell me" theory. Pure genius.

Anyway...you get the picture. Slightly distressed man, wandering around his yard and house, pockets crammed full of coupons, notes, and bank slips, muttering "I'm so stupid" to himself. Yeah. I'd want him to be my pastor.

Finally, I stumble on to one more dumb idea. I pull a credit card (actually, a movie rental membership card...slightly more flexible) out of my wallet and walk to the door. It took me 30 seconds.

This caused a strange set of emotions. There was, of course, elation at first. The humiliating call to Julie (and the corresponding "You're smarter than this...you really are" look) was avoided, and my day was saved. But then, slowly, it dawned on me. I just got into my house in 30 seconds without having a key. It usually takes me upwards of a minute to get in when I have my keys (I am a large key ring guy). A complete stranger could actually beat me into my own house. This is not a good thing. Suddenly, a bit more of that small town naivety melted away...and that's always a sad thing.

And so, we learned two important lesson this weekend. First, we will now employ the deadbolt every time we leave the house...and, I know, it's a big pain to take that extra ten seconds to lock it...but hey, it's family. And...even though we may be a bit nervous about intruders...we will also be keeping another key hidden somewhere on our property. Because we learned another important thing this weekend: We may be willing to roll the dice on security for six months in our new house, but gamble on me actually being observant?

Yeah...nobody's taking those odds.

Enter The Pastor

2007-02-22T19:44:00.000-07:00

It started about two months after I started working in Parkville. It has continued on ever since. Once and a while, I have a truly bizarre "Church Dream." No, I'm not talking about visions or ideal futures for the churches I have served, I mean strange dreams. They come out of left field, often so vivid and bizarre that I and can remember them...to great personal amusement. Some of them come in standard form:

A) The "I forgot/didn't write/dropped my sermon on my way to UDTS Chapel/church/the National Cathedral" Dream. A true classic. I've had several variations on this one, my favorite being the one where I got to page 4 and realized that the rest of sermon was gone. The Parish Associate at the church then quietly stood up, walked forward, motioned for me to sit down, and promptly finished my sermon. Just like I wrote it.

B) The "Oh man, I did something inappropriate in worship" dream. Unfortunately, these are not always dreams. The mother of all of these dreams was the dream that I was handing out Bibles to the new confirmation class...only to look down and see that I was accidentally handing out books by Dr. Ruth. Catechises indeed.

C) The "Church Disaster/Uprising/Capital Campaign" dream. This most recent example of this dream entailed a large, hairy, Sasquatch like beast trying to break into the church while I was giving the Prayers of the People. I remember thinking to myself in the dream, "Just keep praying!!! It will calm them down!!!!"

Then there are those dreams which defy classification. I had one of these Monday night. I don't know exactly what I ate (methinks white chocolate macadamia nut cookies at 9:30 may have played a part), but all I know is that it was a doozy.

I remember the dream "already in progress"...I am with our high school/junior high youth (along with a couple of youth from the group I helped lead in Parkville...must have transferred) from the church in a large (Act 1 size) van. We are driving into Chicago, headed for 4th Presbyterian Church on Michigan Avenue, and Julie's in the passenger seat telling me all about this great mission trip experience where churches from all over the nation are gathering to help serve in the city. Sounds great. I sweat out the traffic a bit, but we get to the church. We all get out of the van and walk inside.

Then, things get out of hand.

I don't remember exactly how it started, but soon all of us were in the possession of ninja weapons (num-chucks, long spears, etc.) and are told to fend for ourselves. That's right...we are in the middle of a Youth-Group-Fight-To-The-Death at 4th Presbyterian. (Well, maybe "Death" isn't fair...I never saw anyone die. They just got knocked unconscious like a marshall arts flick...anyway...). Pretty soon we are under attack...youth flying everywhere. Complete chaos. And everybody is doing crazy Jackie Chan moves...except me. I'm running. Oh, yeah...and hiding. Pretty soon the groups start thinning...and our kids are really rocking the house (at least I assume they did...because...) Eventually it comes down to two teams. And, sure enough, it's us and the youth group from the church I worked at in Parkville. I lower my weapons because I assume we aren't going to...and then WHAM! Down goes one of the kids. And, well, at that point...history or no history...it's on.

The next thing I remember, I am being consoled by Brian, Matt, and a handful of people from my current church. I am told that, because we lost, we don't get to stay and serve. We must go home, in shame.

So...there it is. I won't try to theologically decode the whole "You have to win a ninja fight to the death to serve Jesus" thing, but hey, at least our youth group got second.

What do I take from all of this? I've gotta stop eating after 9:30.

To Mow the Grass

2007-02-21T09:37:00.000-07:00

It's 9:44 in the morning, and I wish I was mowing. I wish that I could hop into a truck, go out...out to a country cemetery for the whole day. I wish that I could sit on the back of a riding lawn mower, stop, and think for a while. And then, at 5:00, I'd come home and eat. I wouldn't wake up at 5:45 in the morning thinking about the lawns to be done tomorrow (or three weeks from now). I wouldn't spend large chunks of time thinking about the color of the paint or the cut of the blade. I'd get something done. I'd just mow.

I've spent the last two hours at my computer writing (and erasing and writing and erasing) the "Pastor's Pen" for this month's newsletter. Tonight's sermon remains unwritten (along with Sunday's)...and the plan for Saturday's Deacon's Retreat currently consists of me asking the group "How are you all doing?" and hoping they talk for five hours. I'm just tired. And, as I sit here in my office, I feel like I've written everything I've got...and I've only been here six months. This is a new feeling for me. And I don't like it.

Of course, above all of this, I remember working in a warehouse right before seminary and getting to the point where I realized that I had no real passion for my work, that I could care less if the widgets were delivered to Hartford or not. I craved the work of the church, like the marrow had been sucked out of my bones. I love my job...and I still believe it is what God has called me to do...and God, thanks heavens, keeps doing it in spite of me (and giving me energy and times to rest as I do it). But today...today the stacks seem too high, the words are out of reach, the self-pity seems warm and comforting, and I feel like I'm spinning my wheels.

Today...I want to mow.

Giving It Up

2007-02-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

I am preparing my Ash Wednesday sermon today, and I've spent some time reading about that time-honored spiritual discipline of giving something up for Lent. I've done this myself a couple of times (television, red meat, etc.) to amazing effect. There really is nothing more powerful than intentionally denying yourself something in this "Your Way, Right Away" culture. There is something that touches the vein of what Lent is all about in not giving in to what you want.

As I prepare, I have been haunted by an image.

I caught a glimpse of the Today show this morning. (Nothing better than America's most trusted news source for Britney head-shavings, Anna Nicole Smith hearings, and astronaut love triangles...you know, the news that really matters...but I digress). They had a short piece on a New York businessman (pretty high up on the totem pole, I think) who they challenged to give up his cell phone, Blackberry, all of his portable electronic devices for one week. I didn't catch the whole story, but I did catch the man (when faced with some time away from his daughter on a road trip) crying...no, bawling...because he couldn't "leave his daughter with no way to contact him." He gave up. He only made it to Tuesday.

They cut back from the "story" to a one-on-one interview between this guy and the Today show guy. They proceeded to, collectively, go on a diatribe about how completely impossible it is to be a human being without these devices. Among the points made:
--"They say it will simplify your life! It doesn't! You lose all connection!!"
--"I missed 91 e-mails in one day."
--"These devices are essential for anyone who wants to function in today's society."
--"Pay phones!!!!??? Who actually uses pay phones!!!!?!??!?"

Where do you begin with this?

Point one: Is this man staying in the new phone-free Super 8?
Point two: I started to wonder if this man ever had a conversation with his children that wasn't via the phone. I'm sorry....that's not fair...I'm sure he's a better Dad than that. Phone or instant message.
Point three: I was blown away by how condescending their little rant was. I don't have a Blackberry. I use pay phones on occasion. This makes me, at best, "disconnected," at worst, some sort of pay phone using mongrel who hates his family and work.
Point four: Are you, Today Show Man, who spends three hours a day talking about Britney's bald head, really the person who we should listen to about a "functioning society?"
Point five: Yes, I realize that in watching this on TV and then commenting about it on (no less than) a blog, I'm borderline hypocritical.

Amazing stuff. I know the sarcasm is a bit thick here...but there is something here about what we "need" to survive as (rich-to-middle-class) Americans. It keeps growing and growing and growing...and, as a result, communication keeps morphing and morphing and morphing. Am I crazy in thinking that a grown man weeping over the loss of his cell phone should be an indication of a need to simplify (or reach out to other humans) rather than an affirmation that it is a beneficial, essential part of who he is? Or is this just sour grapes? Am I being some sort of techno-prude longing for the "Good 'Ol Days?"

I don't know. All I know is that I like talking to people on the phone, via e-mail, via cell phone, etc...but without honest, true, community I would wither and die at my keyboard. What I hope and pray is that I am not increasingly becoming a stranger in a strange land...a dying minority. Reports like this would seem to indicate that.

I Love Our Youth

2007-02-08T09:33:00.000-07:00

About a month ago I was surprised to find one of our "Welcome Visitors!" cards in the offering plate from somebody familiar. It seemed as if a Mr. Bob Marley visited our church one Sunday and (by golly!) checked the "Desire to Join the Church" box. On top of that he "Wants to Be Put On the Mailing List" and "Would Like to Talk With the Pastor." And even through, strangely enough, I couldn't remember seeing an African-American congregant in church that month, my mind raced with possibilities. Visions of reggae "Be Thou My Vision" danced in my head. I could see the bulletin:

Minister of "Maintaining the Groove" and Steel Drums: Elder Bob Marley

But then it all come crashing down to Earth quite rapidly. A quick rifle through our phone book revealed the plain fact that there was no Mr. Bob Marley (Or anybody with that name) in our township...in fact, there are no Marleys in the county. And, really, the hastily scrawled penmanship (once thought to be brought on by hallucinogens), looked an awful lot like that of a 7th Grader. Oh...yeah...and Bob Marley died in 1981. Dreams were dashed...I stopped growing dreadlocks. The dream of Presby-Rastafarian worship faded away.

Another "Welcome Visitors!" card appeared in the offering plate two Sundays ago. I have it on my desk. A Mr. P.J. Nabonzy would like to join the church. He is just as enthusiastic about joining, receiving mailings, and meeting with me. And, funniest thing, he evidently lives in the house once occupied by Mr. Marley (on the 5000 block of a street that I have yet to find), and even kept the same phone number (that, strangely enough, is a couple of re-arranged numbers from some of our other members). I want to reach him and his three kids because, frankly, I really want to know what national heritage "Nabonzy" is derived from.

I do know one thing...when he joins, he's going to love getting to know our two very creative and michevous Middle School Youth.

(A Little Too) Loud and Clear

2007-02-07T09:45:00.000-07:00

I remember talking to a professor in seminary about how the sermon-writing process had changed the way I thought about something. He said, wryly, in reply: "You have got to be careful...sometimes the sermon speaks to you, too."

The lectionary for this week is Luke's "Sermon on the Plain" (I've also heard it called the "Downer Beatitudes") from 6:17-26. After reading it last Sunday, several things have come into line to create the prefect storm:

1) I am home alone with way to much time to think.
2) I am reading "The Overspent American: Why We Buy What We Don't Need" by Juliet Shor.
3) I helped provide and serve supper for people in a working-poor assistance program on Monday night.

I've been processing the sermon most of the week...mulling over in my head the ideas of want and plenty and our perceptions of them. I ran to Target and Lowe's yesterday on errands. I went up to one of the brand new shopping areas in Loveland...full of huge, brand-new buildings. Down the road were two of my personal favorites: Best Buy and Barnes & Noble. All of them have been build within the past five year...all of them massive and lovely. And I couldn't help but feel something like a pit in my stomach. I realized one again what I hate to admit...I am, at once, a pastor of a minority religion and a disciple of the majority. And I was walking on holy ground.

It makes me feel one of two things: anger or guilt. Monday night, sitting next to a family that was doing everything they could not to fall through the cracks, it was a combination of outrage and pity. What I am realizing is that these responses still dwell on how I feel...and none of them really produce anything outside of a continuing obsession with me feeling better.

We talked about this passage at Bible Study on Tuesday. And, as we went around the circle and talked about the guilt we sometimes feel, I found myself saying out loud: "Is the purpose of this sermon, this passage, really to make us feel terrible?" The reply came quickly from the other side of the table: "No...Christ wants us to change."

Christ wants us to change. To place aside the self-pity and speeches of outrage with no action...and to actually do something. To turn off my favorite false prophet more often. You know, the Sony-brand false prophet with 99 different messages thanks to Cablevision. To think less about what I "need" that I don't have. To put aside pity (for others and for self), guilt, and the "well that's the way it is" attitude, and do what I can to help.

In short...to spend more time trying to be a blessing and less time trying to be blessed.

I'll Be Home For Ditka

2007-01-31T08:11:00.000-07:00

Something interesting has happened over the past week. Julie is flying out to California tomorrow to attend a friend's baby shower and will be out in CA until the end of next week. I had planned on a general response when this was "made public." Men probably know what I'm talking about...the "Look who's the bachelor!" and "Can I get you the number for Pizza Hut!?" comments. Instead, I have heard a few comments along the lines of:
"Oh...You're going to be alone for the Super Bowl?"
And these comments are made in the same tone of "You're going to be alone for Christmas?"

The crazy thing is...I didn't find this strange at first. Julie and I already thought of this. We were a little bummed out when we realized that we couldn't watch the Super Bowl together. We even thought about rearranging her schedule to make it happen. But it dawned on me yesterday as I was receiving invitations and/or sympathy because I have to watch a football game by myself how truly strange it is that the Super Bowl has morphed into a quasi-holiday. I have no problem with this...I've enjoyed several Super Bowl parties I have been to/hosted...but I find it interesting that it has become such a capital-E Event.

One of my favorite Super Bowls was when the Rev. Dr. Tim James and I pulled our recliners up close to the TV, ordered enough pizza to kill Elvis, and enjoyed the Rams and Titans playing miserable football for three quarters followed by a great finish. In other words, we did what we usually did when we watched a football game. We made sarcastic comments about the commercials, we talked about the football game, and we ate a whole heckuva lot of pizza. We didn't decorate, we didn't feel the need to blow 200 bucks on a party sub...we just watched the game. I enjoy big, elaborate Super Bowl parties...but I guess what I'm discovering is that I don't find them essential.

I guess I'm just perplexed about why I seem to be the only one. Why do I feel a bit of guilt for wanting to sit around in my pajamas and watch football? Granted, it's the high holy day of football, food, and commercials...

Oh wait...I guess, these days, that does make it another Christmas (or at least Thanksgiving).

Anyway...I'm taking this one off. Coming off of a two day Presbytery meeting in Sidney, Nebraska and the aforementioned "Scout Sunday," I think that I'm going to sit around in my pajamas and just watch a football game. I'm going to call some of my friends. I'm going to root for the Sons of Ditka. And, believe it or not, I'm going to enjoy myself...and watch some football. Guilt-free. Because really, at the end of the day, it's not like it's Christmas....at least not until (hopefully) Peyton Manning starts handing out presents to the Bears defense.

Which Comes First, the Sermon or the Scout?

2007-01-27T18:02:00.000-07:00

Next Sunday at the church is Scout Sunday. It's the Sunday when the troops our church sponsors come to join us in worship, function as liturgists, and (I think) tie knots as sacrament. Anyway...I'm a big fan of this. Not only do we honor and celebrate our church's long tradition with scouting, but we also get a chance to have worship with some new folks.

I met with the Cub Scout and Boy Scout leaders last week and had a great time planning Scout Sunday. At the end of the conversation, though, one of the leaders threw in this comment: "A couple of years back, the preacher did an excellent job of keeping the kids' attention...in recent years, the sermon didn't do that as much. We'd really appreciate it if you could make it interesting for the kids."

Dangit.

Well...now that I'm starting to look deeper into next Sunday's texts, I can't help but wonder how they are going to "play to the 6-18 demographic." It's messing with my mind...and bringing me back to that great homiletical question: Do we really preach for the congregation or to the congregation? Or, simply put, do we give them exactly what they want? I remember what my preaching professor once said (paraphrase): "Give them what they need disguised as what they want."

I love that quote...but, frankly, it doesn't help much here. And Moses didn't play PlayStation 3...or, to my knowledge, skateboard. Or text message. Or listen to Justin Timberlake on his I-pod (although I need to check that one). And so I am left trying to decide how much to "stretch" to keep the young ones occupied.

One more thing...I'm trying to decide if it's freeing or depressing that I can only remember the vague details of about 3 sermons I heard in High School...all in the Senior year. (Sorry Terry.)

Anyway...I'll let you know how this goes as the week goes on...advice is always appreciated.

Ranking: The Bond Movies

2007-01-25T15:13:00.001-07:00

I am a huge fan of the James Bond movies (insert joke about the pastor liking guns, fornication, and misogyny here). It all started when I was at Sterling and started watching them instead of studying for finals...my appreciation for them grew (as did my collection of them). I just think they're good, fun, mostly mindless entertainment.

I waited with eager anticipation for the newest installment to come out. It did not disappoint. When I have mentioned how much I like it to friends, they immediately ask me where it ranks "All Time." Well, here they are. Why am I doing this? Because you write what you know...and it sounds like fun to me. So, to celebrate my day off...I'm ranking all 21 "official" Bond Movies. (The rip-off Thunderball remake "Never Say Never Again" isn't included...it would be somewhere in the middle.) On to the list:

21. "Diamonds Are Forever."

The Good: I'm pressing here...but the elevator fight is pretty good.

The Bad: Connery with a full-on case of Old Bond Syndrome (I swear they had a stunt double go up stairs for him). Jimmy Dean is in it. Yeah, the sausage guy. The disco music. The fake wheelie in the alley. I'll just stop there.

20. "License to Kill"

The Good: Benicio Del Toro as a crazy villain before he got all famous. Q has a bigger part.

The Bad: The producers tried to get all "mid-80s-violent/edgy with it." Way too dark...almost downright humorless. Oh yeah...and Wayne Newton's in it. Yeah, you heard me.

19. "A View to a Kill"

The Good: Christopher Walken being Christopher Walken. The music's pretty good.

The Bad: Tanya Roberts screaming. Grace Jones being creepy. And the all-time case of Old Bond Syndrome...could be renamed "Look Who's Flirting With Grandpa!"

18. Tomorrow Never Dies

The Good: The remote-control car scene is good...and pre-credit explosion fest is nice.

The Bad: I can't stand the villains in this one. Teri Hatcher? Yeah...sure.

17. You Only Live Twice

The Good: Cool spaceship lair and incredible fight scene where guys use sofas (yes...sofas) to beat each other up.

The Bad: Bad Japaneese jokes and stereotypes. Killer Piranhas=Jets underwater and actor screaming.

16. The Man With the Golden Gun

The Good: Angry, Evil, Conniving Midgets. Christopher Lee. Hearing Knick-Knack say "Scaramanga!"

The Bad: Bogs down big time in lame funhouse sequences...Goodnight (though attractive) is annoying.

15. Thunderball

The Good: The jetpack...and all other action on the ground.

The Bad: Most of the movie is underwater. You can tell they thought underwater filming was pretty cool..."Hey, let's film Bond slowly checking his watch underwater! Perfect!"

14. Octopussy

The Good: The suspenseful ending. Really, how many times do you get to see a man dressed as a clown, fighting off the ringmaster, desperately trying to find a bomb?

The Bad: The beginnings of Old Bond Syndrome...at least his love interest is his age in this one. Still a lot of good 'ol Rog looking tired, though.

13. Dr. No

The Good: The first one of them...good plot and action because they didn't know that they could rely on dry humor, explosions, and gadgets yet.

The Bad: None of the real staples are there. No Q, no Moneypenny, no car.

12. Live and Let Die

The Good: Funeral Procession scene. Jane Seymour. Alligator escape. Jane Seymour. Jane Seymour.

The Bad: Fair to Partly Racist with actions scenes that drag on and on and on...

11. Die Another Day

The Good: I actually like Halle Berry in this movie...although she makes Bond kind look like a wimp sometimes. I like the first half of this movie a lot.

The Bad: The second half. It gets filled up with ice palaces and guys wearing strange electronic suits. All in all, though, it holds together well enough. Madonna's in it...ugh.

10. Moonraker

The Good: Sometimes you're in the mood for a good cartoon. You know...like the one where Roadrunner stops Coyote from killing off the world's population with a rare orchid juice that he's going to shoot into space.

The Bad: The cartoonishness of it gets overboard at times, and is joined by strange music (The Magnificent Seven theme), illogical settings (an English mansion in SoCal), and Jaws going all wussy at the end.

9. The World Is Not Enough

The Good: Grows on me every time I see it. Good plot with lots of twists and a nutso boat chase to kick the whole thing off. Looking at Denise Richards is always fun.

The Bad: Denise Richard talks too. The whole caviar-factory-tree-cutting-saw-thing (did I just write that?) is bizarre.

8. The Living Daylights

The Good: A lot of people hate Timothy Dalton...I thought he did well in this one. Lots of stuff blowing up...one character's name in "Yorgi."

The Bad: Lord Of the Rings-ish in its ability to have 7 endings. 80's synthesizer music and Don-Henley-style drum machine permeate the soundtrack.

7. For Your Eyes Only

The Good: The cliff scene where Bond has to climb up by his shoes. Pistachios play a large part in the movie.

The Bad: The figure skater. There are times, when I am alone in a quiet room, that all I can hear is her screeching.

6. GoldenEye

The Good: The first one I saw in the theater. Great action sequences including Bond, with perfect hair, casing somebody in a tank.

The Bad: The Bond girl, Izabella Scorupco, is man-ish. She has a deeper voice than Pierce Brosnon. Fights better, too.

5. From Russia With Love

The Good: Pedro Almendariz as Karim is fun. Early Bonds had that little something called "plot."

The Bad: Girl fight in the gypsy camp (again, can't believe I just wrote that) with all the boys watching is a bit awkward.

4. Casino Royale

The Good: Yep...this high. I really liked Daniel Craig as the new bond...and I thought that the opening chase scene was one of the best/craziest things I've ever seen.

The Bad: No staples...no Q or Moneypenny. Hardly noticed, though.

3. On Her Majesty's Secret Service

The Good: Two words: Telly Savalas. Kojak rocks the world as the uber-villain. Sans-Connery, they actually went back to having a plot, too.

The Bad: Lazenby's luke-warm at best as Bond...bust does enough not to ruin it. He really really really really needed to lose the kilt, though.

2. The Spy Who Loved Me

The Good: Jaws before he goes all wuss. Big, crazy special effects. The strange Christmas-ornament escape pod.

The Bad: The odd pyramid sequence with new-age music.

1. Goldfinger

The Good: The mother of them all. Oddjob. The Aston Martin. Rumpus rooms that turn into multi-media presentation rooms. "Do you expect me to talk? Noooo Misstah Bond...I expect you to DIE!"

The Bad: Awkward judo scene with Bond forcing himself on Pussy Galore.

And so there it is. And, yes, I do have too much time on my hands. And...yes...I'm going to go find 5 bucks now, go down to Ace Hardware, and buy a life. But hey, (he says postmodernly) at least I enjoyed this.

Running to Stand Still

2007-01-23T08:15:00.000-07:00

Well...now there's a weekend for you. I received a call on Thursday morning that one of our members passed away (she lived in assisted living and it was somewhat expected). The family wanted the funeral ASAP...Monday, to be precise. The only surviving daughter was a prime example of "Harried Person." You know what I mean. Harried Person is always slowly running their fingers through their hair, trying to piece together what they should do next...and what they usually do next is spend fifteen minutes trying to convey to you how truly harried they really are. Harried Person simply projects busyness to the point that you feel guilty asking them to do anything. Well...Harried Person really wanted the funeral on Monday. And really, I can't blame her (kids with jobs, etc.)...but what it ended up doing was spiraling most of the family (not to mention the pastor) into a tailspin of planning, stress, and delay. If it tells you anything, I typed up the bulletin Sunday night. And so yesterday, for the majority of the family, wasn't as much a celebration or remembrance as it was a big sigh of relief.

The result? I am now running on fumes. After a Session Retreat that absorbed much of the previous weekend and now this weekend spent working...I am feeling it. Add to that the general "Oh my gosh...I'm really going to be preaching every Sunday for the rest of my life" feelings that happen when I try to write right now...and, well, I'm just dog tired. I'm hoping that this weekend can provide some rest...because next weekend I'm headed to the Nebraska Panhandle for a two-day Presbytery meeting on Friday and Saturday.

I have heard that this happens to pastors, teachers, and the like in their first years. That their passion for the job gives them adrenaline for the first few months...but when they "run out" and things become a bit more"normal," then they adjust. The problem, "they" say, is the adjusting from "Wow! This is new...I'm excited!" to "Wow! God is working...even in these things I do every week! And I'm still excited in a less-energy-consuming-much-more-even-keel-way!".

All I know is that I'm seriously considering replacing the sermon with hymn sing on Sunday.

Just kidding...Julie's going to preach.

Know Thy Market

2007-01-17T14:07:00.000-07:00

OK...I'm really busy today...but I couldn't let this one slide. I received the following piece of junk e-mail just now:

Title: MEET THE HOTTEST CHRISTIAN SINGLES!!!!!!!!!

Open e-mail...one picture of girl in a bikini, another of a guy working out with huge abs. No bibles in sight.

The text reads as follows:
"There are hundreds of available Christian singles in your area, and they're dying to meet you! Log on to (link--not wanting more junk) to find a HUGE FREE database of available, attractive, exciting singles who all live in the DUBUQUE IOWA area! And faith is important to them, too! They're all just ONE CLICK AWAY! What are you waiting for?"

Where does one begin?
First, the overuse of exclamation points is inexcusable...yes, I know you're excited about spreading the Gospel of Hook-Up, but settle down a bit here. Seems like borderline desperation.
Second, I love how faith is sort of thrown in at the end...this e-mail obviously caters to people who have decided that their order of mate-trait-priority must be:
A) Attractive
B) Single
C) No, I mean REALLY attractive
D) Exciting
E) Accessible (as in one click away)
F) Have I mentioned the whole looks thing?
G) Oh yeah...and faith would be nice.
Finally, they lied to me. If they found a whole database full of rocking singles in Dubuque, Iowa...I'm Chester A. Arthur.

And so, rather than simply nit-pick, I am going to be productive. I am suggesting the following revisions:

Title: MEET THE MOST RIGHTEOUS CHRISTIAN SINGLES!!!!!!!!!

Open e-mail...one picture of a girl reading C.S. Lewis on a roller coaster, another of a man dunking a basketball while wearing a clerical collar.

"There are several Christians in your area. Some of them are single. None of them have any idea who your are...and they're OK with that. Some of these people happen to be exciting. They all are growing in their understanding of how God, through Christ, is working in their lives to bring light, hope, and love into the world. Oh...yeah...and some of them are attractive. We got some of their names together and, for a rather hefty fee, you can find out what their names are. Take your time, think about it."

I realize that the tagline hearkens to Bill and Ted (Most Righteous!...air guitar), but I think that actually might bring in the coveted "Christian and Big Fan of Keanu Reeves" demographic. Anyway...just trying to help, that's all.

Two Sides...Same Coin

2007-01-16T08:43:00.000-07:00

I got a call yesterday from the daughter of one of our long time members who has been in assisted living for about six months now. The daughter told me that her mother had become completely unresponsive and was not eating or drinking anything. It was (still is) only a matter of time now.

The mom received a terminal diagnosis about a year ago...and she has remained an upbeat, engaging, and honest person about who she is and who God is calling her to be. She's also been very honest about her fears. I've visited her quite a few times...lately I've watched her thin down and feel more and more pain with every passing week.

And so, yesterday, I sat in her room with the daughter and told her, "the pain and the suffering she has felt and may be feeling now are temporary," and talked about regeneration and restoration...about becoming who she was made to be all along. It was easy to tell her this...easy to say: "things are going to be better for her when she passes on." Although it seemed trite when I said it...like I had heard it in thousands of movies.

I got a call this morning. Two boys from our local High School were hit by a car while trying to change a tire last night. One has hours to live...the other will, at best, lose a leg...at worst, die as well. I have thought about what I would say to their families if I were their pastor(they are not members)...or even what I say to the people of the community.

I still believe what I said yesterday...about things being better. I believe it with everything I am. Things will be better.

For them.

The catch, I am realizing, is the rest of us.

Bueno!

2007-01-14T09:20:00.000-07:00

I am beginning to realize that there is no room at the "water cooler" for me. I really don't watch much Network television at all. No 24, no Survivor, no Lost. When I do watch television (an increasingly rare occurrence), I have recently found myself watching:

1) Athletic events.
2) People preparing food.
3) A-Team and Frasier re-runs.

Strangely enough, though, this does not prevent me from surfing around the channels, looking for what I might be missing. And more often than not, what I stop at...what I am missing...is Univision.

For those of you who don't know, Univision is an entirely Spanish speaking channel targeted to Spanish-speaking Americans. One might think that someone who, in spite of over three years of classes, doesn't really understand much Spanish beyond the word "tocadisco" (record player...yes, sadly, the only Spanish I know is obsolete), would skip over Univision without giving it a second look.

Well, think again.

When I was in grad school, I discovered that this channel has some of the craziest, most enjoyable things on television...even though I have no idea what the people are saying. Granted, I never watch for longer than about five minutes...but every time I watch, I end up laughing or being puzzled. You can't say that about Lifetime...or CNN...or PBS...or, really, any station outside of TBN. Here is a small sampling of things I have seen on Univision:

1) People playing musical chairs...with toilets.
2) A game show involving somebody sticking their arms through a hole and trying to guess what they were feeling on the other side (a donkey, then a bowl of custard).
2b) Said game show is co-hosted by a puppet.
3) A Debbie-Gibson-style pop-song where all of the band members were wearing costumes topped off by enormous 4-foot heads painted to resemble certain animals (think the Milwaukee Brewer sausages). The cat played bass. The pig was on drums.
4) A riveting New Year's Eve party involving extended commentary from an astrologer, a man wearing leather pants, and a man on location in Times Square wearing a large sombrero.

How, truly, can you top that? When was the last time you saw a donkey on Spike, huh? So...God bless you, and gracias, Univision for your blessed randomness. May you live twice as long as "Desperate Housewives."

Brass Tax

2007-01-13T08:22:00.000-07:00

In my constant attempts to stop "over-thinking" about my job, I have realized that I am doing a whole lot of "over-thinking about "over-thinking." This is crazy. Seminary encouraged me to do what I can to be a self-assessing pastor who is always stepping back and asking: "Is this really what God wants me to do?"

Well...guess what. I don't think about big things. I don't have things pop in there like, "I wonder what our church's Theology of the Cross is?" Nope. I am hounded by things like, "I wonder if anybody bought paper towels yesterday...we're almost out." I am trying to kick these things out...to think about important things. I've just never felt this responsible for things before (notice the intentional "felt" rather than "been"). So I've been praying that I can set aside a lot of the things I think about...and, I think it's been going well.

Until this weekend. I am starting my first Session retreat this morning...and I have been sweating the details all week. And, of course, where the rubber meets the road is the "Early Wake Up." I hate the Early Wake Up. I sat there this morning and looked at the ceiling, thinking about everything I needed to do.

And so...prayer is appreciated for today, for a tired guy who is trying to make sure everything is covered. Please pray that everything is not covered-that there's room for people to be themselves, and start conversations about what is going on at the church. Pray that God moves...and not only in the ways I have planned, but especially in unplanned ways.

Why Must I Drive 85?

2007-01-11T20:58:00.000-07:00

This is a post (copied word-for-word) from another blog I posted on. I am putting on here because I think that it describes a little bit of where I am right now in ministry:

I suddenly realized last night that I have fallen into that old familiar trap of "I'll catch up when......." That it's sort of like Reading Week, except that I have spent my "off time" doing more work instead of going to Cubs games, playing poker, and the like. But then I stopped. I was just as busy last year at seminary with everything going on, and I took Reading Week to spend time with Julie, to rest and vegitate a bit on the 'ol couch, to take time to spend with friends. And then the real question: "Why haven't I done this over the past few weeks?" And that, well, that got me going. And it all started flowing...you know how it works. REST? HOW COULD I REST WHEN I HAVE..... budget meetings and new members classes and session and deacons and lunch meeetings and annual meeting and visitation and...yeah.Never had that problem at Seminary. Greek a week or so on the horizon or...time with friends?

But then I remembered something that I told my Uncle this past Thanksgiving when he asked me if I was getting any real relaxation time (his Father was a minister): "I got plenty of rest at UDTS...It's easy to say, well, a Preaching Paper isn't that big of a deal in the large scheme of things. You can't say that with funeral preparations."And no, you can't. But what I am realizing, here, is that you have to take a step back from that position, too. It's a bigger deal than a Preaching Paper...but it really isn't (in spite of what some may have you think) the biggest thing.

And so I have come to (capital t cpaital p) The Problem: I am constantly overrating myself and my ministry.Now...don't worry. I'm not going down the "I'm worthless" road here...quite the opposite...but what I have been noticing over the past few weeks (especially over "stewardship season") is that fewer and fewer people have done the "drop-in" visit recently. And I have noticed a marked increase in comments such as, "I know your'e busy...and I don't want to burden you with unimportant things." Julie felt guilty asking me to decorate the tree this weekend! What I have realized is that my unitentional perpetual air of self-importance and busyness creates a wall of distance that really only "digs me in further." I am saying, non-verbally, "Leave me alone...I am about the (cue trumpets) WORK OF GOD. Leave your petty lives out of this." And so, really, the problem is that I really think it all rides on me.Which brought me, this morning, to what a professor once said in class: "The furtherance of the Gospel does not depend on me."

I'm now expanding that. The furtherance of the Gospel does not depend on this Sunday...or any Sunday. It does not depend on the 2007 budget or who is nominated to the next class of elders. It does not, in spite of what some people tell me, depend on my reponses to somebody asking me questions and trying to figure out if I'm a "liberal" or "conservative." It does not, in spite of what I feel sometimes, hinge on a single funeral. It does not depend on my ability to be insightful and/or humorous at Bible Studies. It does not depend on my ability to bring in new families. It sure...sure as anything...doesn't ride on a sermon. It does not, in spite of what I have heard, even rely on this Church. I think that I'm slowly living out that what I have known all along. All it does rely on is a manger and a cross. It depends on a self-giving God that breathes heaven's purposes and glory into everyday life. And that divinity, just below the surface, pops out in those things that I so often ignore or minimize. Hugs. Lazy talks over coffee where you talk about the Broncos for fifteen minutes to get the courage up to get to what you really need to talk about. Prayer. Fifteen minutes talking about grandchildren at the care facility. Walks. Silence. Above all else...having and giving time to God and neighbor. And so, bottom line, I need to realize that parish ministry is no more or no less important than seminary. The key is to take the time to find where God is moving and working and not get hung up on "my stuff." I stopped this morning...and thought. What do I treasure and draw upon from my time at seminary? The simple stuff. The unplanned stuff. The things I took the time to hear and experience. Lunches. Friends. Dicussions. Challenges. Relationships. Growth. The times I truly stopped...in and out of the classroom...

And stopped taking myself and my schedule so darn seriously.

Slightly Conflicted Beginnings

2007-01-11T20:48:00.000-07:00

Well...hello.

I have always considered blogging to be a bit, well, self-indulgent. Who really wants to hear about me? Well...thanks to:
1) a couple of excellent examples of both serious and humorous blogging (see links to the left)
2) encouragement from family and friends that I should start "documenting" this new experience
3) my desire to keep everyone updated without using mass e-mail
And...let's not forget...most importantly...
4) my love or writing and talking on about nothing much at all
I have decided to start a blog.

And that, really, is that. If you know me, you might enjoy it. Really, if you don't know me, it's something close to a miracle that you happened to type "newpresbyterianpastor" into your computer accidentally.

So...it is what it is. Hope you like it. I'm thinking that I will.